


Crazy

by bunnoculars



Category: SHINee
Genre: Background Kim Taeyeon/Byun Baekhyun, Background Nam Woohyun/Kim Kibum | Key, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Infidelity, Minor Jung Soojung | Krystal/Kim Jongin | Kai, Multi, Slow Burn, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2019-07-29 19:52:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 212,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16271183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnoculars/pseuds/bunnoculars
Summary: SM is having a bad year, Jonghyun is stuck in a bad relationship, and for both, Taemin is one good thing. As Taemin prepares for his solo debut and struggles to have his own life, he finds himself needing Jonghyun more than ever. Jonghyun is the same. Wrapped around his abusive girlfriend's finger, fighting the company for creative control over his first solo album, he turns to Taemin for comfort, support, and understanding.They fall in love, and fall hard.As SM is rocked by dating scandal after dating scandal, Jonghyun and Taemin are left to choose between protecting their careers and putting everything and everyone else first, or risking it all to be together. Set from summer 2014 to spring 2015.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Will update as I write. Updates may be slow and/or inconsistent.
> 
> So this fic is somewhat heavier than what I usually post. It’s somewhat out of my comfort zone, too, but I’ve always wanted to explore Jonghyun’s darker songs like “Crazy” or “Playboy,” and I’m always looking for ways to channel my kdrama obsession into my Shinee fic lol. In this case, I’ve borrowed some tropes from adultery dramas. They’ve long been a not-so-guilty pleasure of mine, all the more because of their split personality: there are the screaming, hair-pulling slap fests, fights to the death to save your marriage and save face, not necessarily in that order, and then there are the feminist critiques of class and gender, where stepping out on an unhappy marriage and/or abusive husband is just the first step towards becoming your own person again, and learning to live for yourself. (And a lot more that fall somewhere in between, or fall off the map into makjang territory.)
> 
> …And then there’s fanfic lol. Infidelity=/=adultery and obviously male idols are in a very different situation than women who’re trapped in the home and losing their own identity to that of wife/mother, but I see some parallels as well. Idk, I thought it would be interesting to play in that sandbox for a while!
> 
> This is getting super long, but really quickly--I stan f(x)'s music and I'm a fan of SNSD's and EXO's as well, but I haven't consumed much other content for any of those groups, so I apologize if Taeyeon's characterization is off, or in later chapters, Kai's or Krystal's.

“What do you think, hyung?”

SM never asked Taemin before they made it his title track and scheduled him to record it next week, but now he’s asking Jonghyun.

“It suits you.”

Taemin gives Jonghyun a look through the smoke. All Jonghyun has to do is wait him out, coiling Taemin’s headphones around and around his phone until Taemin reaches across the table to take it back, flipping the meat piece-by-piece, fending Taemin off. Taemin huffs to himself, pouts at Jonghyun, drops his chopsticks and goes for his spoon. Says around a mouthful of rice so big Jonghyun’s not sure how he’s got room for words, “What does that mean?”

“It’s good for dancing.” More rice. Then kimchi. No _hyung~_ or _hyung~~_ or even _you’re not funny._ “It’s in your range?” That’s more like it. Taemin makes a face, scrunches his nose up and furrows his brow. Jonghyun rewards him with beef, and then a real answer. “There’s a story and a character, it’s a song you have to bring to life. You’re perfect for that. I won’t know if it’s sexy until I see it…but it’s not cute.”

“Good.”

“Aigoo. You’re done being cute to our fans, but you’re always so cute with me.” Jonghyun pinches Taemin’s cheek, but Taemin doesn’t frown or smirk like he’s supposed to, just chews and chews, eyes on the meat. Jonghyun tries again. “All I meant was 'Danger' will show them another side of you.” And when that doesn’t get Taemin to look at him, “What is it, Taemin-ah?”

That does it. But then Taemin tells him, “Nothing,” and if he doesn’t mean it he’s got this look on his face like he really wants to.

But Jonghyun knows better. Since April, it’s always been something. Meetings, meetings, more meetings, Creative, Marketing, vocal coaches, Shinee’s coordis, Taemin’s new manager, producers, engineers, Lee Sooman…and then there’s the important stuff.

Taemin himself.

It’s all Jonghyun can do not to push too hard. “You don’t like it?”

“I like ‘Ace’ better.”

It comes out like a retort almost, like Taemin thinks that counts as talking back, being a brat, whatever. It doesn’t, not with Jonghyun. He’s not SM.

But all that means is he can’t help. And he can’t make Taemin talk about it, either. The most he can do for him right now, the most he’s ever done for Taemin for the past two months, is make it okay.

“You like Changmin hyung better than Jam Factory, you mean.” He gives Taemin the stupidest smile he can muster. “You like me best, right~?”

Like magic, Taemin smiles back.

“I don’t know,” he says, but Jonghyun’s pretty sure he means _you tell me._ And then Taemin steals some more beef, and some more, stuffing himself, and Jonghyun’s more than pretty sure that means _I don’t know how to talk about this._ And then finally, shy, awkward, a little painful, Taemin says, “How is that thing we talked about going? The one you’re writing.”

Taemin’s song. Jonghyun’s lyrics.

The moment Taemin told Jonghyun SM told him he was going solo back in January, Jonghyun told Taemin his everything was Taemin’s everything, too. And then a month later at thirty thousand feet, ocean bluer than the sky, sun hotter than hell, trapped in the middle seat, Taemin turned to Jonghyun and said out of nowhere, _I get that it’s harder being a woman, but it’s not easy being a man,_ and meant, _Nobody even sees me as one._

Well, not out of nowhere. Not after a lifetime of makeup and hair extensions and aegyo, variety shows throwing skirts at him, noonas cooing over him, hyungs babying him, shitheads at school calling him a girl, girls treating him like a doll or a threat or one of their own.

And not, I hate it when people tell me I’m pretty. Not, I hate being Taemin. Not, I want to change. More like, I’m tired of other people telling me how to be?

I’m tired of other people telling me who I am.

I just want to be me.

“It’s going,” Jonghyun says. “I should have something you can look at soon. Did Creative okay Jonginnie’s part?”

That’s the wrong thing to say, looks like. This time Taemin goes for the soju. Jonghyun beats him to it, pouring him a shot, catching his eye. It’s just the two of them, and Jonghyun wouldn’t even say anything, but Taemin takes it with two hands, and turns away to throw it back. That gives Jonghyun a couple seconds to catch up, alcohol burning his throat, but Taemin wasn’t being good just to be evil to Jonghyun and return the favor. He leaves Jonghyun’s glass empty. He didn’t say anything, either, when Jonghyun cut them off at bottle number two. If Taemin wanted to get drunk he would’ve gone out with Jinki, but instead he’s here with Jonghyun, eating his feelings.

Sighing. Dropping his head onto his fist. Admitting, “I don’t know. Not yet? They’ve said like ten different things. His schedule changes, then mine does, then his does…”

SM plans their lives years ahead without telling them anything, which is bad enough. It also rearranges them without asking, month-to-month, week-to-week. The only people who ever know what today is supposed to look like are the managers SM pays to get them from Point A to Point B.

“Let me know when you do, okay? I have to know whether to write a rap or not.” Jonghyun nudges Taemin’s foot with his. “Unless you want to try? Rap God Taem?”

Taemin’s flow takes him about as far as, “Yo,” before it’s too much not to laugh at himself, and he’s too cute for Jonghyun to keep the smile off his face.

“How is he doing, anyway? Jonginnie.”

“Fine. He wasn’t close with Yifan,” Taemin says. “It’s everything else that’s the problem. If the lawsuit goes public before their EP drops, that’s bad. But if it comes out while they’re promoting…” Taemin trails off. Then asks him again, “What do you think, hyung?”

That 2014 can’t get much worse for SM at this point. That Taemin is their one good thing right now. They should be taking better care of him, now that Jonghyun’s not there. Now that he can’t.

“It’s between Yifan and the company, Taeminnie. You’ve got enough stress right now, don’t add to it.” Taemin frowns at him, and just like that, Jonghyun wants to smile. “If you don’t worry about yourself, you’ll make me worry about you more.”

“Then what about you?”

Huh?

Taemin waits him out, building the fattest lettuce wrap Jonghyun has ever seen.

Finally, carefully, Jonghyun asks, “What about me?”

Opening his mouth is his first and last mistake, because right away Taemin leans across the table to stuff his creation inside. He can’t say no to Taemin, he’s never learned how, but he never asked for this, and if he bites Taemin’s fingers it’s not his fault. Maybe his teeth catch Taemin’s thumb, but Taemin escapes with a pop, and Jonghyun’s left trying not to choke, chewing and chewing and chewing.

Taemin’s watching his face way too closely. “I listen to Blue Night sometimes, you know.”

Oh. Jonghyun didn’t. He thought maybe, but he didn’t know. He never does with Taemin, not anymore, now that they’ve left the dorm. Taemin would have to tell him first. Pick up the phone. Answer Jonghyun’s texts. Ask to meet first, ask Jonghyun for something more than food or soju.

But Taemin’s here with him now, so Jonghyun skips being selfish and tells him, “Minho does too. He says it’s only because of the program after mine, but he gives me reviews,” and Taemin nods, smiles, like Jonghyun’s speaking Korean, not lettuce wrap.

“You talked about another side of me, but I feel like I’ve never met that person before,” he says.

“It’s just me in jondaemal, Taeminnie.”

Taemin shakes his head, starts up, “I didn’t mean it like that,” and then gets a little stuck on Jonghyun’s face. “Jonghyunnie hyung.” Jonghyun gives him more beef, takes more for himself, burning his tongue, melting in his mouth, and some more. More. Taemin doesn’t even try to stop him, but all that thinking only gets him as far as, “Has SM said anything? Did they give you a meeting?”

Okay. It’s okay. Jonghyun can answer that much.

“A month from now.”

“That’s something.” Jonghyun goes for the soju just as Taemin goes to pat his arm, and Taemin’s hand lands on his instead, small and warm. “That means they have to let you talk.”

It costs Jonghyun nothing to give him a smile. “Did they let you?”

Taemin doesn’t fall for it.

“You’re not me, though.”

Just three little words, and there are three thousand things Jonghyun could say, but there’s no way to make Taemin listen, and even if Taemin’s wrong about himself, he’s still right about this one thing. Jonghyun’s not Taemin. He’s not beautiful the way Taemin is. He wasn’t born for this life, he’s not a fairy prince, he’s only human. And right now he’s just another problem for SM to deal with. 

“If words don’t work on them, show them your demos,” Taemin says. He gives Jonghyun like half a second to feel better, and then he goes for it again. “They’re all really good, hyung. I wish you could write me a song, not just lyrics.” And, “If you’re that worried about it, buy me lunch sometime. The engineers, too. They’re easy, if you give them food they’ll take a look at ‘Deja-Boo’ for you.” Taemin smiles for him. “If they like it you have to listen to them. They know what they’re talking about.”

Like Taemin doesn’t?

Before Jonghyun can tell Taemin he wouldn’t care if they hated it, it’s enough that Taemin likes it, and if his music is good enough for Taemin it’s good enough for Jonghyun…his phone buzzes.

_silent treatment?_

_really_

_i know ur not busy. its sunday, no radio_

_i know ur reading these_

_im ready to talk. i guess ur not?_

_not without yelling at me?_

“That’s like the fiftieth time tonight, hyung.” Taemin wrinkles his nose, goes back to his food, like he’s bored of Jonghyun all of the sudden. “Just call her already. She won’t stop until you do.”

It takes everything Jonghyun’s got to keep his hands to himself, so the words are out of his mouth before he can stop them. “Be grateful I’m paying attention to you. When you’re on your phone you forget I exist. If it’s not games it’s Jonginnie.”

“I’m not dating him, though?” Taemin gives him a look, like Jonghyun is the one being weird or something. Like Taemin doesn’t have the weirdest half-smile on his face right now, the one that says _why are we having this conversation._ “Did you fight with her again?” Jonghyun’s not going to answer that, but Taemin reads it in his face. “She wants to break up? Again?”

Jonghyun doesn’t want to talk about it.

He can’t just tell Taemin that, though, not when he’s trying so hard. So he passes his hand over Taemin’s hair, says, “Eat your food,” and on second thought, “Don’t eat mine. I’ll be back in a couple minutes, okay?” and then he goes out into the dark alone.

 

It takes him a minute just to place the call, staring at her number, flying and falling. A week ago she was “jagiya.” Now, “Hong Dahae.” In another week she might be nothing. If he can’t delete her he can just get a new phone.

Instead of _hey you~,_ she says, “Is there a particular reason you’re ignoring me?”

He should have talked to Taemin. Ordered another bottle. Spilled his guts, cried his eyes out, showed Taemin what a loser he is, made Taemin carry him home and put him to bed.

Anything but this.

“I called you,” is all he’s going to say.

“You didn’t answer my texts?” Dahae replies, like he’s playing dumb. “Where are you, what are you doing, are you free…are those hard questions?”

_Why is it so hard for you to say I miss you or I love you or I’m sorry? It’s so easy for me._

She doesn’t wait for him to answer. “I get that you’re mad, but try thinking of my feelings, too. You never do.”

Too easy.

“It’s not like that, I’m not mad.” He’s only sure he’s lying once it’s out there, and he’s left with this bitter taste in his mouth. If she doesn’t want to believe him, she doesn’t have to, that’s her problem. And yet here he is, trying again. Explaining himself. “I have Taeminnie waiting, I took him out for dinner. He’s been having a hard time lately.”

“'Taeminnie?’” She laughs in his ear. “Wow, that hurts my pride. Pick a girl next time, at least.”

“I’m not you.”

He said it. He meant it. But now Jonghyun’s left with this shitty feeling, chest tight, mouth dry, blood rushing, just waiting for her to tell him, _he’s my ex but he’s also my friend. Half your friends are girls, you don’t see me going crazy._ Ask him, _are you telling me not to see him? Seriously?_ Lose her temper, _you’re not my father, you’re acting like a child._ Play with him. _If you make me choose between you, I will._

She laughs at him again.

“You really are mad.”

“Should I not be?” Jonghyun doesn’t say it wanting to hear an answer, but still, he makes himself stop there, give her a chance. Five seconds, ten seconds, twenty…nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. “You were the one who wanted to take a break. I’m taking a break. With Taeminnie.”

There.

…There. Jonghyun can breathe again. Fresh air, scent of rain hanging in the air, dripping off the roof, puddled at his feet. The moon looks like an eyebrow and the stars might be satellites.

It’s a nice night. As nice as summer ever gets.

As he opens the door to the restaurant, his phone rings. He doesn’t have to answer. He has nothing to say to her. He doesn’t have to do this to himself.

“Send him home.”

“What?”

“You can’t drink anyway. Get the check and send him home,” Dahae says again. She pauses, like she’s not sure how far she wants to go. “He doesn’t need you. I do.”

Two minutes ago she was the worst thing that ever happened to him, and two words don’t change anything. They shouldn’t. Maybe if she’d said them last week, when Jonghyun came by to see her and the guy she broke up with to date him answered the door. Maybe if she’d hung onto him, told him not to misunderstand her, let him in, instead of telling him to call first next time, telling him he doesn’t own her, like he ever said he did, making him feel like a pig, throwing him out onto the street.

He has Taemin waiting. Taemin’s never told Jonghyun he loves him, either, but in nine years he’s never done anything to make Jonghyun doubt it, and Jonghyun’s never needed words from him. Taemin’s said it so many other ways. He’d probably say it again now, let Jonghyun turn his phone off, help him through another three bottles of soju, and if Jonghyun started to talk, Taemin wouldn’t shut him up. Maybe he’d say it out loud, tell Jonghyun what he really thinks. What they all think. 

_She’s crazy, hyung._

“Jonghyun-ah.” His name on her lips, her voice in his ear… “I had a hard day, too, since you never asked. Come take my mind off things.” And then she says it. “I want you.”

Jonghyun is crazier.

 

The shower cuts off.

“You can stay, but I have to get up early tomorrow.”

Jonghyun opens his eyes to find Dahae standing over him, toweling her hair. Hot pink toenails, razor burn up her legs, men’s T-shirt slipping over her shoulder. It’s not his any more than she is, and whoever she stole it from, it’s hers now. She has a collection, after spending her twenties collecting men. He’s only the latest, and she's still got a few years to go before she says she'll have to marry. If someone asked him how he’s lasted with her for six months Jonghyun’s pretty sure there’s only one right answer, and it begins and ends in this bed, but every time feels like the last. Like twenty minutes ago, heels digging into his ass, nails in his back, harder, faster, fucking _fuck_ me. Like right now, crawling towards him across the mattress, eyes dark, hips swaying, ass in the air, shirt hanging off her body.

When Jonghyun pulls her into his arms she comes with a half-smile and a noise low in her throat, somewhere between contentment and annoyance. She lets him get away with more, lets him bury his face in her breasts, open his mouth on her nipple, cotton on his tongue, hard through her shirt. Sighing, combing her fingers through his hair, she pulls him closer, warns him, “I just got clean.”

“Uh huh.”

She pushes into his hand, bites back a moan as he slides it up her thigh, warm smooth skin for miles. Then suddenly she yanks his head back, narrowed eyes, sharp voice. 

“My face is up here.”

She shoves him onto his back and goes for her phone, leaving him naked and alone, just him and something that tastes and feels and looks like shame, flushed hot and cold and black and red. The only thing left is to wait it out, bend his legs and tent the sheets with his knees instead of his boner. Wait for his heart to make sense to him, wait for her to tell him he’s not in trouble, that he didn’t do something wrong.

She’s done fucking him. Maybe she’s done talking, too.

Silence.

He breaks first. “What’s tomorrow? Meeting with your manager?”

She throws her phone onto the bedside table and gets the light, flopping down next to him, turning over to face him like nothing happened.

And she says, so easily, “Noh Heekyung.”

Okay. He didn’t fuck up. Okay.

“Wow,” he says, and then it catches up to him, and he ends up meaning it. “That’s a big deal. She’s a big deal.”

For Dahae, at least. If she cared about ratings or money she’d be chasing after Kim Eunsook, but she’s an actress, not a celebrity. An artist. That’s what she tells reporters, at least. She told Jonghyun she’d rather die than play wide-eyed virgins at thirty. That gives her two years to break into Chungmuro, if live-shooting doesn’t kill her first. 

And now she’s giving him a look like she’s caught him in a lie. A stupid one. “Like you’ve ever seen a Noh Heekyung drama.”

Whatever that’s supposed to mean.

“My mom loves her. Anything she wrote before 2008, I’ve seen.”

One look at her smile, and he goes back to the ceiling instead, but it doesn’t hurt him any less to hear it. “Seen and understood, Jonghyun-ah.” She kisses his shoulder, says into his skin, “She’s not for everyone.” Jonghyun bites his tongue till he bleeds, but she’s long gone anyway. “She’s not what she used to be, either, and she’s got no pull at SBS, she’s under Kim PD’s thumb. But she’s still so fucking picky about who she works with.”

That probably means, _She might not pick me._

Jonghyun swallows back the bitter taste in his mouth. He can go back to being selfish and stupid once he’s stroked her hair back the way she likes, told her, “I’m proud of you, baby. Just getting her in a room is a lot.”

She’s got no one else.

Right away, she says, “I’m proud of me too,” almost like she’s arguing with him. “I deserve this.” Something in his face makes her pause, narrowing her eyes at him. “What?”

Nothing.

“You’re so pretty.”

She doesn’t need him to tell her that, she always catches him staring before he catches himself, but he can’t help it. Maybe he doesn’t want to. “You’re so much more than that.” And he gets to touch her, brushing his knuckles across her cheek, caressing her shoulder.

“You are too,” she replies, so easily. She takes his hand in hers and lays it on the mattress between them, wrinkling her nose at him. _“What?”_

It’s nothing. Just…

“It feels like it’s been forever.”

She snorts.

“It’s only been a week.” To her, maybe. “Did you miss me?”

Saying it out loud is like peering over the edge, stepping out into nothing, “Mm. A lot,” but on the other side she gives him a kiss, slow and wet, dirty sweet.

Then pulls back to check her work. He opens his eyes in time to see her mouth curl. “Where did you find the time?”

He never asked her to say she missed him, and he never asked to hear it if she didn’t, and now he’s lying here in the dark hoping it doesn’t show on his face that she’s getting under his skin, hoping she can’t hear how hard he’s faking it when he laughs. Not dealing with any of it.

It’s easier just to squeeze her hand, lean in for another kiss, tell her, “Good night, Dahae-yah.” Close his eyes.

It was only a week.

Out of nowhere, she says, “How come he’s going first, anyway? Taeminnie.” She’s only met Taemin three or four times, started talking down to him after the first. His name sounds wrong somehow, coming from her. “You’re what, three years older? He should get in line.”

And Jinki is a year older than Jonghyun, but that’s not how it works. That’s not how it _should_ work. Jonghyun’s spent the last six years telling Taemin that. That it’s okay to want things for himself, that it’s okay to fight for them, that he’s not taking anything away from Jonghyun or Jinki, not lines then, and not his solo album now. And then there’s the other stuff, too, stuff Taemin could never ask but probably knows, stuff Jonghyun needs him to hear, because he couldn’t live with himself if Taemin didn’t. He’s proud of him. He’s happy for him. He’s Taemin’s first fan, his number one fan, he’s known him longer and loved him better than any Taemin mom ever could. He believes in him.

Taemin shouldn’t need Jonghyun to tell him anything. He should know by now how good he is.

Should.

Jonghyun doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t even know if he wants to talk to her. She told him once that he’s cuter when he’s asleep. Maybe he should try telling her that now, let her decide how to take it. 

But for Taemin, he says, “Have you seen him?”

“Yes?” She scoffs at the look on his face. “I’m not into pretty boys. Not when they’re prettier than me, anyway.”

She’s never come to watch them perform, she’s probably never even Youtubed them. She met him shooting a CF with Shinee, but it took her three dates before she liked him enough to stop playing dumb, asking him which group he’s in again, and once she got him in bed she stopped taking him out. She never got to the part where she cared if shit-talking idols meant shit talking him.

All that means is she’s missed the point. It means she could never get it. Get Taemin.

“Taeminnie has everything, he’s perfect.”

“And he’s prettier than me?”

She said it, not him. And he knows better than to say anything now, watching her face, waiting her out, maybe tickling a smile out of her?

She smirks, wriggling away. “Since he’s so perfect~”

“As an idol, I meant,” Jonghyun says, ticking each thing off on his fingers, “Dancing. Vocals. Visuals. Everything.”

She shakes her head, lets him comb her hair back from her face. “And as a person?”

“Taeminnie?” Jonghyun doesn’t have to think about it, he knows him too well. “He’s cute.”

And Taemin knows it, too.

She rolls her eyes, and that’s how he catches himself smiling. “You mean you’re weak.”

Maybe. Just a little, and just for Taemin. Taemin’s never taken advantage of him, though, not even when Jonghyun wishes he would. He never asks for anything. Not from Jonghyun, and not from the company, either.

“If anything, it took SM too long to figure out what they’ve got.”

“You mean he does what they tell him.”

No, Jonghyun doesn’t mean.

He takes a couple seconds. Cuts himself off at, “He’s worked really hard for this.”

“Yeah, well, so have you, right?” She sighs, flops onto her back. Tells him with forced patience, like he hasn’t been at this longer than her, “Hoobaes don’t just play cute with you, Jonghyun-ah, they play cute with the people above you. If Lee Sooman likes Taeminnie so much, you should try liking him a little less. Pretty soon he won’t need you anymore.”

Maybe she picked that up in college.

“Not hoobae,” he corrects her, as gently as he can, “dongsaeng. I’ve known him since he was thirteen.” She doesn’t take that too well, mouth tight, eyes shut tighter. She always has to be right, even when it’s about him. All he can do is try again, snuggling closer, kissing her neck, playing with her hair. “You don’t understand, baby, you debuted on your own. It’s different in a group.”

Like she was just waiting for him to say something, anything, whatever, she snaps, “And you debuted as a kid,” and for a second Jonghyun think’s there’ll be more, but then she explodes into a sigh. “I’m not telling you to hate him, and I’m only saying anything because I want you to look out for yourself. No one else will.” She gives him like two seconds to reply before she twists onto her side, stares into his face. “You’re supposed to say, ‘except for you.’”

Jonghyun tries a smile on her.

“Should I start calling you noona?”

Wrong. Her face says so. Her voice, too. “I don’t know. What am I to you?”

Somehow Jonghyun’s heart doesn’t stop or flutter or race ahead of him. Just keeps on beating.

“What do you want to be?” His stomach turns over as soon as he’s said it, and if he thinks he might die waiting for her answer, who knows what hearing it would do to him. He has to go first. It has to be him. “Everything.” He’d say anything. “You’re my everything.” 

She takes that in.

Stares into his eyes. Says to him, “Should we get married then?”

Jonghyun’s not supposed to laugh. She’s supposed to tell him he’s supposed to laugh, and that’s all. And maybe if they were different people, if this were someone else’s relationship, he’d kiss her, and she’d lean into it, and he’d feed her a cheesy line like, _Cook for me first, then we’ll see~_

Instead she says, “FYI, it stops being sexy when you say too much,” and Jonghyun doesn’t get why this doesn’t hurt more. Why it still hurts so fucking much.

Why he sticks around for this part. Why he can’t stop himself.

Why he’s trying again, cupping her cheek, kissing her lips, breathing into her mouth, “If you want me you can have me. I’m yours.”

He’s not lying. Not to her, and not to himself.

And he’s pretty sure she’s not either, when she says, “And I’m tired,” rolling over so that all he’s left with is her back.

_Of me?_

This time her sigh shakes the bed.

“Oh my God, I can hear you thinking. I can never just say things with you, everything has to mean something.”

He turns away, too.

Takes a minute just to tell her what she wants to hear. “It doesn’t have to.”

She hates him for saying it.

He can feel it everywhere, like pins and needles in his skin. Taste it in the air, like smoke every time he breathes, pricking his eyes with tears.

He _knows._ She wants him to.

Not enough to keep her up, though. Long after her breathing evens he lies awake, stomach unclenching, muscles relaxing, deep breath, one, two three, four, five, hold, six. seven. Release, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.

Again.

He could be at the bottom of bottle four right now, daring Taeminnie to cut hyung off. Instead he’s here, two orgasms later, alone in the dark.

He could have forgotten her tonight. Now it’s like he never will.

Five hours until he can get out.

…Five hours of _this._

Maybe she’ll wake up in a better mood, maybe fuck his brains out, make him come so hard he forgets his own name. Maybe she’ll sit on his face, maybe she’ll sit on his dick. Maybe they’re out of condoms. Maybe he’s out of time. Who knows.

Maybe he should get up and leave now, go home, crawl into his own bed and stay there forever, until his mom shakes him awake, telling him, _Dinner, Jonghyun-ah. Eat with mom, you’ll get lonely if you wait till later,_ and when he groans and rolls over, _What time did you get back last night? Did Taeminnie let you drink~?_

There’s nothing—no one—stopping him.

Only him.

 

It feels dirty, just the thought of going home in the same clothes he wore yesterday, and it’d probably be dirtier to go for a drive, kill the planet to kill time. Dahae kissed him goodbye and told him to wait for her to call him, all his friends have lives or jobs or both, and Taemin hasn’t responded to any of the seven text messages Jonghyun sent him, so here he is.

_came in today. if u have time hyung will buy u food_

Eight.

_nvmnd. cafeteria._

Nine.

_have u eaten?_

Ten.

_u got home ok rt? ur ok?_

_dont ignore me_

_u were supposed to text me last night_

_1 word and ill stop_

Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen.

_taeminaaaaaaah_

“Whatchoo working on?”

It only took Taeyeon ten minutes to ask, but she had to look up from her own phone first.

“Taeminnie.” He probably just lost his phone somewhere, and there’s no way he could know how fucking crazy that makes Jonghyun. How much crazier, that he can’t get Taemin out of his head, but he hasn’t had a single thought about him worth writing down. It’s been four hours and all he has is a title he got months ago, just looking at Taemin: “Pretty Boy.” But anyway. Tae _yeon._ “You?”

Now that she’s remembered he exists, all of the sudden everything else does too. She stops twirling her spoon in her soup and shovels rice into her mouth instead, flashing him a big white smile.

“Not working. Playing~”

He figured as much.

“Be careful, noona. Dispatch has it out for you guys.”

Either that, or the government is covering up something a lot worse than the nation’s girl group dating. With the new year and SNSD’s comeback, half the group got outed. First Yoona and Sooyoung and Miyeong, and then Hyoyeon. There were rumors about Sooyeon, too, but no photos. And now Taeyeon is taking them herself, and posting them online for the world to see.

Like she’s read his mind, she reassures him, “It’s only Instagram. And it’s only little stuff.”

Yeah, only the place where her fans come to see her every day, maybe even a thousand times over, all day. And if Jonghyun can figure out her and Baekhyun’s codes, he’s pretty sure some sasaengs already have their number. Dispatch’s isn’t hard to find.

She returns his look, but her heart isn’t in it, and in a few seconds she’s cracked into another smile, bigger and brighter than the last.

“You’re that happy?” Jonghyun says.

“Mm.” She narrows her eyes at him. “You’re not happy for me?”

He gives her a smile, since she asked so nicely.

“Jonghyun-ah…I know what I’m doing.” He never said she didn’t, but she rethinks, studying him. “Or maybe I don’t?” She crinkles her nose, leaning forward to tell him like a secret, “I feel like I’m getting away with something.”

Jonghyun’s supposed to be the young and stupid one here, but back when he was even younger and stupider, he felt the way she feels now. Secret rendezvous, hotel rooms, hats and face masks and sunglasses in the dead of night, pet names like code names, forbidden love. And then he got caught.

He never took photos with Sekyung. And now all he has left of her is the one Dispatch plastered all over the Internet. His memories are like lies, split between before and after.

She moves on first, circles back. “How is Taeminnie?”

“I don’t know.” It’s the truth, and it doesn’t care how much he hates it. “Have you seen him?”

She pulls a face like she’s thinking, which, fair enough. Between EXO’s comeback, f(x)’s album, SNSD’s concert prep, Taemin working on his solo debut, and the new girl group getting ready for theirs…it’s only lunchtime, and Jonghyun’s probably the fiftieth person she’s seen today.

“Not since I got in? If you couldn’t find him he’s probably across the street, at the studio.” That’s her best guess, and if it’s not good enough, it’s not like it’s her fault. Taemin could try answering his phone. “What about you?”

Tired. Bored.

Lonely.

Jonghyun pushes his tray out of the way to put his head down.

“I don’t know,” he says again. He can feel her look. “Really.”

“When you say you’re fine, that’s when I know you’re not,” she replies. “But if it’s ‘I don’t know’… Are you telling me not to ask?”

“I’m not telling you anything.”

Maybe that came out wrong, because she huffs, “Fine then. I see how it is,” and when he gives up, returns to the harsh white light of SM’s cafeteria and the smell of kimchi, it’s too late. She’s decided she likes her phone better than him again.

“Noona~”

“What~?” she says back. “You do your thing, I’ll do mine.”

The smirk on her face already gave her away, but when she reaches across the table to steal some of Jonghyun’s tofu, he lets her get away with it. It’s not like he was going to eat it, anyway. And maybe talking is beats flipping between Taemin’s wall of silence and Jonghyun’s blank note page, even if she’s back to not listening, even if it’s only to himself. All he has to do is open his mouth, and it already counts as getting somewhere.

“It’s like…normally I don’t write about anyone, even with love songs I don’t. It’s all in my head. How am I supposed to put Taeminnie into words?” That’s impossible. Taemin is impossible. “He has to sing this, too. He gets embarrassed just talking about himself.”

Taeyeon snorts. “Come on. If he can say the crap SM gives him out loud, I think he’ll be fine with anything you come up with.”

That’s different. After the first hundred times they run through a song, no matter how funny or stupid the lyrics sound at first, how bad they taste, all five of them start to forget what their lines even mean. Jonghyun wants to write something Taemin gets to remember. He can’t give Taemin a voice, but he can give him words. He can help Taemin have his say for once, maybe just this once, about his image, his career, his own face, his own body. His own life.

Taeyeon just shakes her head. “I mean, why are you asking me, how am I supposed to help you? I don’t write music.”

She’s right. She’s always put everything into her voice, left it on the stage. And Taemin’s always put everything into his body. He knows how to say things with dance that Jonghyun could never write down. That kind of beauty has to be seen.

…which is why he’s sitting here bothering Taeyeon while she’s busy trying to hide in plain sight with her boyfriend, instead of putting something, _anything,_ down. Jonghyun gives up. At least he wants to. He really, really wants to.

_i dont know if i see u the way u see urself_

_im trying taeminnie_

_but i know u better than u know urself anyway~_

…

_i knew u wouldnt answer for example_

_and i know ur not reading this_

_u know ur dead if u r, rt?_

If Jonghyun doesn’t die of embarrassment first. If he knew how to shut himself up, he would. Still…

Better Taemin than Dahae.

When he looks up Taeyeon catches his eye. Whatever it is, whatever she sees in his face to make her frown like that, he doesn’t want to know. 

She can’t argue when he gives her own words back to her, “You do your thing and I’ll do mine,” and now it’s up to him to mean it.

Another five minutes and Joohyun comes to collect her, and he’s on his own again. Another half hour, just him and the Taemin in his phone, and he can’t take it anymore. He sets “Pretty Boy” aside. Pulls up his Blue Night script instead.

Just another twelve hours~

 

“You look like you haven’t slept.”

Leave it to Heeyeon to state the obvious.

Jonghyun doesn’t even bother to lie, just unburdens himself. “I’m going on thirty hours, I’m going crazy.” Thirty-one by the time he gets home from Blue Night, and he had pop on the way over to MBC, too, he might not be able to sleep until five or six. But anyway. Now that he put that look on her face, he has to say something to get it off. “Don’t worry, Manager hyung gave me a ride here.”

That kind of works.

“You need me to take you home?”

“Don’t worry,” Jonghyun says again, “I can call for a taxi.” Heeyeon half-smiles, shaking her head, shuffling her script. “What?”

“Nothing.” It’s not a lie, it’s just automatic, but Jonghyun’s not stupid, he knows something when he sees it. And sure enough, sneaking a sidewise glance at him, she goes on, “I just thought…If you need any help sleeping, we could make a stop.”

Jonghyun doesn’t know how he should think of her: the one person in this country he can drink with, or the one person he absolutely never ever should. Most girls can drink Jonghyun under the table, but all it takes is two, three bottles between the two of them, and they forget each other’s names. That first time they went in as Shinee’s Jonghyun and Dear Cloud’s Nine, and came out Jonghyunnie and Heeyeonnie noona. Or, without soju, as a compromise, Jonghyun-ssi and Heeyeon-ssi.

And now each night he goes with her he tells himself is the last, and each morning Taemin hovers over him, patting his back as he pukes his guts out, he tells Jonghyun the exact same thing. Hyuuuuuung~. I’m tired of getting calls from strangers at four a.m. telling me where to pick you up. I’m just, I’m so tired. I started last night at home, my mom called Jinki hyung just now, looking for me. And now I have to call Manager hyung and ask him to pick me up here instead. Why is it always me?

Dahae is number one on his speed dial. Taemin is number two.

_You do the math, Taemin-ah._

Like she’s read his mind, Heeyeon sighs, says, “Forget it. Soju makes everything worse.”

She probably just read his face.

Still…

Next commercial break, Jonghyun asks her, “Did something happen with you?”

There’s that half-smile again.

“Just the usual. You know, life.” She leans back in her chair, makes this stupid face as she goes into a stretch, nudges him with her foot. “You?”

“The usual. Women.”

Heeyeon stills. Way too casually, she says, “Dahae-ssi?” like she even needs to ask.

Just another reason Jonghyun should never mix Heeyeon and alcohol.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

He means it.

“Good,” she says shortly. “I don’t, either.”

Jonghyun takes a minute.

Once he’s sure he won’t snap at her, he says, “If you hate her I have to like her more. You do know that’s how it works, right?"

That’s not fair. Heeyeon’s never even met her to dislike her, she’s only going off what Jonghyun himself has said about Dahae. All the things about her that drive him into the bottle would be the first things to come out on the other side, and they never talk about this stuff when they’re not drunk. Heeyeon doesn’t know Dahae’s good sides, all the things that make her too good for him. How smart she is, how strong she is, how beautiful she is. How hard she’s worked to build herself up, how hard she has to fight to keep what she has.

How lonely she must be, deep inside.

“Then…you take her side, and I’ll take yours.” Jonghyun knows what that look means. _Somebody has to, if you won’t._ Heeyeon nudges him again. “Let’s talk about you.”

Jonghyun’s _tired._

“Heeyeon-ssi~”

She doesn’t give a shit.

Jonghyun really, really doesn’t want to, but he makes himself go there. “Creative said they’d hear me out. That doesn’t mean they’ll listen to me, though, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s a start, Jonghyun-ssi,” she tells him, so easily. “Don’t go in there thinking there’s no point, or you’ve already fucked it up.”

“That’s what Taeminnie said. ‘It’s something.’”

“I mean, he knows what he’s talking about, right?” Heeyeon says. “And he knows you.”

Better than anyone. Better than Jonghyun’s ever wanted him to. And yet…

“When I’m with him, it’s like I’m the person I want to be,” Jonghyun says. He’s not sure who he’s trying to explain this feeling to, Heeyeon or himself. “I’m not Jonghyun hyung on my own. I’m just me.”

Heeyeon nods, but it almost sounds like a question when she says, “You do your best for him.”

More like…it’s enough for Taemin? Jonghyun is enough. There are things he can do for Taemin, things nobody else can. But then there’s that weird little smile on Taemin’s face when Jonghyun put him in a taxi last night, too, his voice in Jonghyun’s head, _I can get myself home, you know,_ and, _If I listen to Blue Night tonight it still counts. Maybe it’s not live, but it’s still you, hyung._

He sounds so lonely now. He just sounded tired then. Taemin would probably say, _I’m busy. You know what that’s like._ Or maybe, _You’re always saying weird stuff about me, hyung. You’re the one who never sleeps, worry about yourself._

_And stop texting me._

Jonghyun stops himself before he starts. He doesn’t know anything. “It’s not like I don’t try as hard when it’s for myself. It’s just, it’s different. _I’m_ different.”

All Taemin ever sees is him at his best, no matter what Jonghyun does or says in front of him. Jonghyun’s the one who’s stuck inside his own head. He’s the one who has to live with himself at his worst.

Heeyeon’s been watching his face closely, and now she says, “I don’t know what you think it’s like being on an indie label, but it’s a lot of the same stuff. I know something about pitching albums to corporate dickheads. I know how soul-destroying that is.” She pauses, like she’s checking to see if he’s listening, like she really, really needs him to. “But I know SM cares about music, too. A lot.”

A lot more than they have to, she means. A lot more than YG or JYP do. That’s nothing Jonghyun didn’t know already. How could he not, when he’s been at SM for six years, and every producer and songwriting team Shinee works with is on the cutting edge of pop music, or has roots thirty years deep in American R&B.

In other words, she’s not helping. Not at all.

Except, she thinks she is. Except, she thinks, “Yours is good enough to make them listen.”

“Is it, though?” Jonghyun catches the look on her face and adds quickly, “It’s an honest question, I’m not fishing.”

“It’d be less annoying if you were.”

The only thing Jonghyun knows for sure, the only reason he likes the demos in his phone and the album in his head better than the album SM wants him to make, is that it’s his. But that’s just him. And Taemin, and now Heeyeon, too. Just him and the two people who try the hardest to understand him, and know the real him better than Lee Sooman would ever care to, or Shawols ever could.

“Good music can make money, you know,” Heeyeon says, like that’s his problem. “There’s no shame in that. Believe me, I wish mine did.”

It doesn’t even hurt her to say it.

Jonghyun tries a smile on her, a real one, however shitty it tastes. “You made some off me~”

That’s all he can say for himself now, and back when they started getting close, all he could do for her was go out and buy Dear Cloud’s entire discography, digital, physical, everything. When their latest album gets out of post-production hell, if it ever does, she’s promised him a signed copy, and whether his first is his baby or SM’s, she’ll ask him for the same.

But she didn’t go there to make this about her, and if Jonghyun tries she’ll shut him down in a second, so anyway. About him.

“It’s like…I don’t know. If SM gives me a chance, it won’t be out of favoritism. They don’t work like that. And if I fight for a song and it ends up on the album, then okay. It’s probably good. But at the same time, if it sells, it probably won’t be because of anything I did. It’s SM. Shinee. Shinee’s Jonghyun.”

He’s getting so far ahead of himself, but she doesn’t even call him on it, just says, “Again, it’s not either-or,” and then prompts him, a little more gently, “You don’t want your fans to like you? You don’t want them to support you?”

If she puts it like that…

Jonghyun puts his head down. “You always make me sound so stupid.”

“That’s just you, hyung.”

Minho.

…Minho?!

“What the fuck?” Minho smiles at him, and then smiles some more, when Jonghyun demands, “Who let you in?”

“Um, PD-nim did? You guys were too busy talking.” Which, in another…three minutes they’ll be busier talking on air. _Shit._ “It’s been two weeks, and all you can do is swear at me. I’m kinda hurt.”

“Fucking goddammit. Fuck. You can’t just show up like this, what are you even doing here? It’s one thirty.” Deep breath. Deep breath. “We have to go live in a minute. Don’t say a word if you want to live. Got it?”

Minho moves on either way, setting a coffee down in front of Jonghyun and greeting the staff and Heeyeon with more, who returns his smiles, tells him when he calls her sunbaenim, “You can call me noona or Heeyeon-ssi, if it’s more comfortable.”

“You said that last time, too,” Jonghyun points out. “Minho doesn’t listen.”

Heeyeon doesn’t even bother to hide her smirk. “I don’t know, he seems pretty cute to me. He has manners.”

“He brought you caffeine, don’t go overboard.”

Minho makes a face at him.

“Hyung thinks only Taeminnie’s cute. He’s mean to the rest of us.”

“Should I be mean to you right now?” Jonghyun snaps. But breathe. Breathe, breathe. “Please shut up. Please.” And then Minho finally runs out of people to bug and actually does what he’s told, folding himself into a chair, getting his phone out. Jonghyun isn’t feeling bad or anything, but, “We can talk later, if you’re sticking around.”

Heeyeon has to go and ruin it, turning to Minho too. “Did you drive here? Jonghyun-ssi needs a ride home.”

Minho keeps his face straight, but his eyes are laughing, pinging between them.

“I don’t know, I’m kinda hungry…”

“Oh my God.” Jonghyun is going to have a heart attack and there is absolutely nothing funny about that. “Twenty-five minutes, Minho-yah. Twenty-minutes and hyung will buy you whatever you want.” Minho opens his mouth to reply, but Heeyeon smacks his shoulder, shushes him, because time. Time. The music kicks in, and then his own voice, tinny and indistinct, from another planet until he puts his headpiece in, and he’s back. “This is Blue Night’s Jonghyun.”

 

Minho wants chicken. All Jonghyun wants is sleep, but a promise is a promise.

He makes the call from the studio in between goodbyes, then rethinks, slouched in the passenger seat, red light after red light, and texts Jinki too.

_ordered chicken. got enough for u too. they said 15 minutes_

_will pay u back_

There. Now Jinki has zero excuses to eat it all before they get there, and Minho won’t have to get worked up all over nothing.

Not that he’s expecting Minho to thank him, or anything. He’s too busy annoying Jonghyun. First it was how hungry are you, then how are you, then how’s Manager hyung, I haven’t seen him since he moved in with his girlfriend. And now finally, “How’s your mom doing?”

“Good,” Jonghyun says, because he’s answering for her. But when Minho smiles, nods, easy as anything, Jonghyun has to say for himself, “She’s working too much. I need to make more money.”

Minho glances at him in the rearview mirror. One look at his face, and Jonghyun decides he likes Seoul a lot better than he likes him, leaning against his window, watching the city go by, waiting for Minho to go back to the road.

“When you go solo…”

Minho never knows when to shut up.

“What about you, what’s up?” This time Jonghyun returns Minho’s look with one of his own. “You didn’t come all this way to ask after my family.”

“Yeouido is like half an hour from anywhere at two a.m., hyung.” Jonghyun’s not sure if that’s supposed to be a retort or what, but Minho gives him like two seconds to figure it out before he folds. “I wanted to see your face. There, happy?” This time Jonghyun gets a whole minute to figure out if he should laugh, but Minho still beats him to it. “Seriously. I see Jinki hyung every day, Taeminnie every few—”

“He’s not making it home?”

Already? He only started recording two weeks ago.

“—but you and Kibummie…”

He wasn’t around the dorm much by the time Kibum got his own place in January. Taemin was the first, moved back in with his parents in October, but Jonghyun didn’t last long without him, alone in their room. And now it’s just Minho and Jinki, and whoever’s too busy to care where they wake up, or working too late to care where they sleep.

_Taeminnie…_

But it’s Minho who’s with him right now, so it’s Minho he has to deal with first. “I haven’t seen you either, Minho-yah. What’s up?”

All it takes is pointing out the obvious, and Minho gets shy. Who knew.

“I don’t know. Work shit.”

Jonghyun can work with that.

“Acting shit? MCing shit?” He gives Minho the stupidest smile he can, gives him a way out, in case he really needs it. “Just shit?”

Right away Minho picks, “Acting.” The rest takes a little longer. Jonghyun lets Minho take as long as he needs to feel his way, tilting every vent towards him and turning up the AC, closing his eyes. Breathing. “It’s like…everyone has their thing. You and Taeminnie, music. Kibummie, everything. Jinki hyung…”

Eating and sleeping. For the next six months, that’s all.

Jonghyun moves on as quickly as he can. “I don’t get what the problem is? SM’s never had trouble casting you before.”

“That’s just it. I want to do it on my own.” That’s as far as Minho gets, before he sees something in Jonghyun’s face that makes his jaw tighten. “You wouldn’t get it, hyung, you went to school for music, you were a better vocalist when we debuted than like ninety-nine percent of our sunbaes. You’ve never been bad at what you do.”

Jonghyun doesn’t even know where to start, there are so many things he could say—the part where he’s still working on his technique, or all the million times Taemin’s stayed after with him, taking his stupid body through the choreo again and again and again until something finally clicks—but it takes him forever to find something Minho might need to hear.

Finally, he says, watching his tone so carefully, “You said it yourself: when we debuted. I trained for eight hours a day for three years, I practically lived in the vocal room. You were there too, you would know.” But maybe that’s too close to a reproach, and anyway, “No one ever taught you how to act, nobody ever gave you time to learn, and doing a drama is different from doing an MV. If you were perfect on your first try that’d be scarier.”

Either Jonghyun said something right, or Minho can tell he’s trying. First Minho’s face softens a little, and then he relaxes his grip on the steering wheel. And then he talks.

“My first lead role, I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t even know I might be doing something wrong, taking it from guys who’d worked their way up.”

If Dahae heard Minho say that, she’d probably laugh.

And she’d probably laugh even harder when Jonghyun tells him, “You didn’t take anything from anybody.” But she’s not here. Jonghyun gets to say whatever he wants, and Minho’s stuck listening to him. “People shit on idols wherever you go. Don’t let it get to you, okay?”

“It’s not like that,” Minho says, so fast Jonghyun’s sure it is. A little bit, at least. But then he goes on, “I just…I like dramas. I like movies. And I like acting, and I think I could be good at it, but right now I know I suck. And you know me, I can’t live with that.” Jonghyun does know. That’s the first thing he learned about Minho, and maybe it’s the only thing about him he gets. “I have to build myself up. All the sunbaes I talked to told me to get a part in a weekend drama or something. Get some experience.”

Why is he asking Jonghyun then?

No, really.

“Are you going out for auditions? And SM’s just letting you?”

“That’s not how it works, hyung,” Minho informs him. Which, whatever. He knows Jonghyun doesn’t know anything, he just said. But anyway. “They won’t let me do a daily drama, but I won’t do prime time. That’s where we’re stuck.” Minho smiles, that giant shit-eating grin of his that Jonghyun loves to hate. “Don’t you think a weekend drama would be a good compromise?”

Instead of telling Minho that SM and compromise don’t belong in the same sentence, that he might have to wait until kingdom come, Jonghyun sighs, folds his arms across his chest, says to him, “Aigoo. It’s your career. SM helps those who help themselves.”

Rests his eyes.

Minho doesn’t make him wait. “That’s God.”

“Same thing.”

Minho can’t just leave it there, because he’s Minho. Their back-and-forth gets them through the rest of the drive and out into the night. Halfway across the parking lot Jonghyun forgets talking for breathing, heavy summer air sitting on his chest, clinging to him like a second skin. Giving Minho the last word keeps him happy all the way onto the elevator and down their hallway, but he grabs Jonghyun’s wrist before he can buzz the doorbell, and shoulders in front of him to punch in the passcode.

Just not until he’s told Jonghyun in a half-whisper, “Hyung is sensitive right now.”

He sounds so stupid, but still, Jonghyun keeps his voice down.

“His surgery?”

Jinki’s had polyps on his vocal cords since sometime last year, probably, and next Friday they’ll be gone. He’s got a week and some left to dread it, want it over with, not think about it, whatever, and then half a year without a voice. Maybe another half a year getting it back.

“Yeah.”

 

Everything’s normal with Jinki. Too normal. When he lets them in he leads them straight to the living room, where he’s got newspaper spread over the floor and the TV on low, two grease-stained boxes waiting for them along with a pile of bones. He even pretends to feel guilty.

“I saved the dark meat for you guys.” And when Minho whines just to whine, says he was only in it for the wings and Jonghyun ordered it for him, and Jinki should know better, his only answer is a smile. “Should I buy another chicken?”

Jonghyun’s not on a diet, but he doesn’t want to have to go on one anytime soon, either, and Minho’s the one who said to be gentle with Jinki and he’s the one trying to torture him now, and anyway, it’s no fun when Jinki turns things around this easily. So that’s a no.

And that’s that. After five minutes of solid eating, flipping between SBS and KBS and MBC every commercial break, until Minho yanks the remote out of his hand and settles on the Music Bank rerun, Jinki remembers Jonghyun exists long enough to ask him, “Are you sleeping here, Jonghyunnie?”

Jonghyun groans, throws himself onto his side. Jinki moves the chicken out of the way before Jonghyun kicks it, but he doesn’t do anything about it when Jonghyun digs his toes into his thigh.

“My mom would probably file a missing person’s report if I do.”

No one asks him where he slept last night, _if_ he slept, nudge nudge, wink wink. They always stayed out of each other’s business as best they could while they lived together, and now that they get to keep secrets from each other, they’re too old to break them.

He could just tell them on his own, just the basics. ‘Dahae and I are on again.’ There’s nothing stopping him.

…There’s no way they’d want to hear about it, either. And he never even told them they were off. Not this time, or any of the times before, ever since Minho pulled him aside that one single time last winter and told him he’d heard she’d made out with her costar at a wrap party, and Jonghyun would’ve rather cut his tongue out than tell him he was right about her, it was true and she wasn’t sorry, and it was nothing to him now. It took her another two weeks to tell him it was nothing to her, too. It didn’t mean anything, she got caught up in the moment, she was drunk. And all he had to do was get drunker, enough to believe her. Enough to take her back.

Anyway. Now it’s enough, just telling Taemin.

Minho pats Jonghyun’s thigh. “Text her?”

Huh?

Oh. His mom.

“Eat and go,” Jinki says over the MCs’ chatter, saving him the trouble of answering. He looks up from the breast he’s picking clean in time for the next song to kick in. “Aigoo, our Kibummie’s boyfriend is on TV~”

Out of chicken, three a.m., and “The Last Romeo,” it’s painfully obvious which thing doesn’t belong, but Minho’s too busy making a face at Jinki to remember he’s got the remote.

“What, you don’t like him?” Jonghyun piles on. “Nam Woohyun-ssi~?”

Jonghyun has to stretch to poke him in the side, then snaps his eyes back to the TV in time for Minho to give him a look instead.

“More like I don’t know him? Like, at all?”

Jonghyun skips the part where he feels sorry Minho’s best friend got stolen by another man and Minho himself got relegated to third wheel, and rubs it in some more instead. “They’re cute together. I had them on Blue Night for Toheart.”

Minho snorts. “Can you imagine what he’d say if I formed a subunit with my girlfriend?”

Just as Jinki smiles, ribs him, “What girlfriend?” Jonghyun says, “Which girlfriend?” and then it’s too late to wipe the smirk off his face.

Too late to play nice.

Without thinking, Minho retorts, “Aigoo, that’s interesting, coming from you of all people,” and then Jonghyun has to watch as it kind of hits him, smile dying, shoulders tightening, and finally he corners himself into saying, “How’s Hong Dahae-ssi?”

Just then there’s a thud, a creak, and the hallway light switches on.

“What are you guys doing?”

Jinki cranes back to look. “Were we too noisy, did we wake you? Sorry, Taemin-ah.”

Taemin’s face doesn’t change, mouth tight and unhappy, squinting over at them, eyes skipping over Jinki and Minho and coming to a rest on Jonghyun.

“You had chicken without me.”

By the time Jonghyun heaves himself to his feet, he’s swallowed his smile. Taemin has no reason not to believe him when he promises, “I’ll buy it for you some other time,” and Jonghyun has no reason to lie, anyway, taking Taemin by the shoulders, turning him around, herding him back into their room.

Minho could’ve said something. He kind of did, but only kind of.

Taemin starts on his clothes before Jonghyun even thinks to get the light or the door, muscles playing under supple skin, curve of his spine, and with two clicks it’s just the two of them. Taemin’s not the one who shut Jonghyun in here with him, he still hasn’t said a word to him, but he doesn’t bother now, stepping out of his pants, faceplanting into his pillow, kicking at his blanket, long pretty legs, cute little feet.

Jonghyun laughs.

As soon as he remembers himself, he helps Taemin out, drawing the blanket over his body, sinking down onto the mattress next to him. Once he’s off his feet he doesn’t know how he’s going to get up again.

“Did you move back in here?”

“No, just for tonight,” Taemin mumbles. “Today was crazy. Tomorrow will be too. Shit.”

Jonghyun strokes his hair back from his face.

“Sleep, Taeminnie.”

Taemin catches Jonghyun’s wrist on his way up. When Jonghyun turns his eyes are open, staring up into Jonghyun’s face.

“You too. You look like a zombie.”

It’s only three feet to his bed, it would be so easy to burrow under his blanket, black out, but Jonghyun sits back down instead. Sticking to Taemin’s side, holding onto him, hand so small and warm in his, for the first time since this morning, Jonghyun goes back there.

“We made up. Me and Dahae.”

Taemin doesn’t smile for him. Jonghyun would have to first.

“Are you okay?”

Taemin always asks the hardest questions.

“Just tired.”

“I set my alarm for six,” Taemin tells him, then hesitates. “I can go sleep in Kibum hyung’s room?”

If Jonghyun had his way they’d both stay right here forever, just the two of them, just like this, but he doesn’t want to make Taemin get up for a second time tonight, make Taemin hate him. The next best thing is going to bed himself. Taemin doesn’t hold him back this time, just watches Jonghyun until he’s got his shirt over his head and goes for his pants, and he’s sure Jonghyun isn’t going anywhere. If he were still looking, Jonghyun’s pretty sure he’d feel his eyes. He used to come home to Taemin from the gym every night, back when they lived here together, but now…

Whatever. If it’s good enough for Dahae, it’s good enough for Jonghyun.

From the safety of his blanket, he says, “I thought I’d buy you lunch tomorrow, but breakfast works.”

He hadn’t thought anything. Five seconds ago tomorrow was another black hole, and now he has Taemin to feed, and no one to blame but himself when Taemin adds, “And lunch some other day,” like Jonghyun was trying to get away with something just now.

Jonghyun’s not smiling. Taemin’s not the cutest thing on earth, he just thinks he is.

“Uh huh.”

“And then chicken.”

“What about soju? Hanwoo?” It’s not an apology, he’s only saying. “I cut you off yesterday.”

Taemin needs a minute to think about that one, but he forgives Jonghyun. Lets him off the hook.

“It’s okay. I’m on a diet, anyway.”

Already?

Right away, all Jonghyun wants to know is if he put himself on it or SM did, but that’s no help. It’s Taemin’s body, not his, and if he said anything right now, he’d be as bad as them. He’s already keeping Taemin up, and that’s bad enough.

In his best Taeminnie-is-unreasonable voice, he says, “But chicken is okay? Taemin-ah~”

“You’re the problem, you’re bad for me.” There’s that smile in Taemin’s voice, the one that says hyung-is-playing-dumb, and Jonghyun doesn’t need him to go on, “Take responsibility. Cut me off again. Then it should be okay,” to hear what Taemin’s not saying.

_I know you're here for me, hyung._

Getting himself to listen is a little harder.

“Taemin-ah…If you do move back in, tell me.”

Minho can’t take care of anyone and Jinki has to take care of himself, and they always used to leave Taemin to Jonghyun. Jonghyun has nothing better to do.

Taemin probably sees through him in a second, but he doesn’t do anything about it, just sighs into his pillow. “What about your mom?”

“She doesn’t need looking after.”

Taemin raises himself on his elbow, eyes finding Jonghyun in the dark. The longer he looks at Jonghyun, the less Jonghyun wants to hear what’s coming next. That probably shows on his face, too.

Finally Taemin just comes out with it. “And you don’t either?”

Jonghyun swallows his heart.

“Not right now?” he replies carefully. He’s not lying. “I only work two hours a day, Taeminnie. Four or five, counting prep.”

Taemin narrows his eyes at him, halfway between smiling and frowning. “Six or seven, counting songwriting?”

“Aigoo. I should have something for you next week.” If Jonghyun could reach him from here he’d have Taemin’s cheek between his fingers, his hair in his fist, just _something._ Instead he has to keep his hands to himself, folded over his chest, buried under his pillow, curled around his blanket. “How many hours are you up to?” As soon as it’s out there he wants to take it back, in case Taemin hasn’t tried counting yet. He has to do better. “When did you get out tonight?”

Taemin scrunches his face up, like it hurts to think.

“Eleven, eleven thirty?”

Wrong question.

“What time did they let you out, Taemin-ah?”

“Nine.” Taemin returns Jonghyun’s look with interest. “I had some stuff to work on.”

Jonghyun knows how Taemin gets. When it’s the five of them, ninety-nine percent of the time he’s right there with him. Just one more take, just one more run-through, just one more try, until the sun comes up and today becomes yesterday, and tomorrow becomes today.

It should be enough that Taemin’s here in bed instead of curled up on the vocal room floor.

Except that’s crazy, and it’s not. Promotions are months away, most of his EP is tied up in pre-production, he doesn’t even have choreo to work on yet. He shouldn’t be doing this to himself, not now, not for another few months.

He shouldn’t be doing this to Jonghyun. Not ever.

“See, you don’t take care of yourself.”

Taemin laughs at him. “If you say so, Kibummie hyung~”

“I’m pretty sure it was Jonghyunnie hyung who took care of you before.” So what if he’s snapping at Taemin, when it’s the truth. So what if it’s all he can say for himself now. “I can cook. And none of you three ever clean.”

“Uh huh.”

Maybe Jonghyun can’t feed Taemin every meal or do his homework or hold him till he falls asleep anymore, but he could still break his legs.

_Tell me you don’t need me anymore, Taemin-ah. Tell me you can do this without me._

“You’re lucky you have me.”

That’s the least Jonghyun could say. It’s also the most.

“I’m fine, hyung.” Taemin means it. “Really. You don’t need to worry.” Jonghyun doesn’t return Taemin’s smile, just takes it in, shy and awkward and sincere. “Yongdeok hyung does everything. He feeds me, and he always waits to take me home. I thought he was scary at first, but I think I can talk to him.”

Taemin’s manager. Jonghyun’s never even met him.

“What does he know?”

Taemin smiles harder, this much closer to laughing again.

“Hyung.”

Jonghyun thinks about playing hard to get, but he turns towards Taemin instead of the wall. “Yeah?”

For the longest time, Taemin stares into his face, like he’s looking for the right words. But as soon as he opens his mouth he has to hide, say it into his pillow, voice a little muffled, a little weird.

“You have me, too. You know that, right?”

Just like that, Jonghyun’s heart hurts, so much it steals his breath and turns his voice to gravel. It’s a good thing Minho didn’t ask for beer with his chicken, or Jonghyun wouldn’t stand a chance against the tears gathering in his eyes. He knows he makes no sense, but when he’s drunk, he doesn’t care. Right now, though.

Shit.

The ceiling is a little safer than Taemin’s face, the black of his eyelids safer still, but it can’t save him from answering. It should be so easy to tell Taemin, “I know.”

There.

Taemin gives him like five seconds before he starts up again. “Hyung.”

Taemin’s the one who needs sleep.

“What?”

“Can you make tamagoyaki? Every time I try it ends up as scrambled eggs.”

…What?

Taemin is so weird, but he wouldn’t be Taemin if he weren’t. This is the first normal thing he’s said all night.

“Hyung will show you.”

Finally, something he can do.

Except, it’s Taemin. “Kibum hyung already did. I just want to eat it.”

“Aigoo.” Tomorrow. If there’re eggs in the fridge. “Anything else?”

Taemin takes so long to think about it Jonghyun gets scared he’s drifted off on him, but then Taemin comes back to him, just to say, “Night, hyung.”

“Good night.”

Somehow this day is going to end. Somehow Jonghyun got the last word. Somehow tomorrow will come.

Somehow…

“If I sleep through your alarm, get me up.” No answer. “Taeminnie?” If Jonghyun raised his voice he’d get one. Taemin’s right over there, breathing the same air, so warm and close. “Are you sleeping?”

Jonghyun is.


	2. Chapter 2

Soojung’s told him before that she’s trying to pick up smoking so she can take smoke breaks. Taemin smokes just to smoke, but today he came out here to be alone. Maybe that was stupid. 

He’s been alone all day.

“Everyone has someone but me.” Soojung’s not a mind reader, she’s just bored. And when she’s bored, she talks. And when she talks…“They’ve all gone boy crazy. Well. Jinri found herself a man. I think he’s like an ’80 liner? I don’t know, I guess he’s cool. She’s really into him. Have you ever heard of Dynamic Duo?”

It’s easier to listen.

“Everyone has?” Taemin, too. He doesn’t know their music at all, just that they exist, but that’s more than Soojung apparently. “You have no excuse, you were already over here when they got big.”

She narrows her eyes at him. Before it was a quiz, now it’s a test. “Then you know him? Choiza?”

“I don’t listen to hip hop.”

That’s a fail. She gets to laugh at him, and he gets to decide if he’s embarrassed or not. Maybe it would’ve been better to lie, it’s not like she would’ve caught him at it. The only person who could’ve is Jonghyun, the only hip hop Taemin knows is the hip hop Jonghyun’s tried to get him into…but he’s probably as far away from SM as possible right now. Taemin would be too, if this weren’t his whole life right here, back alley behind the studio, ten minutes into his lunch break, ten left to go before he has to go back in there.

Soojung is stuck in the same place.

“Yoona noona and Lee Seunggi,” Taemin offers.

She scoffs, plucks Taemin’s cigarette out of his mouth. Then chickens out, holding it between her fingers, smoke curling between them. “The whole country knows about that. It’s been months, oppa.”

“Jessica-ssi and what’s-his-name, that CEO.”

That’s not even worth a pity laugh.

“Baekhyun hyung and Taeyeon noona?”

This time she rolls her eyes.

“The whole country should know. They will, too, if they’re not careful. My sister’s thinking about getting married to What’s-His-Name, and she’s less obvious than them.” She nudges him with her foot. “What about you guys?”

That’s easy. Taemin doesn’t even have to think about this one.

“Just Jonghyun hyung.”

“And Kibum oppa, right?”

“Oh,” Taemin says stupidly. “Yeah. Him too.” She’s giving him this look like he’s too clueless to live, leaving him to explain himself. “I only see Woohyun hyung when Infinite’s schedules overlap with ours, I’ve never even seen them together-together.”

When Kibum got his own place he said he’d invite them all over for a dinner party, but ever since he’s been too busy to eat at home, even.

And as for the others…

Minho hasn’t gone on more than two dates with the same girl for like a year and Taemin’s pretty sure Jinki’s still not over his ex. Taemin only knows because he came into Jinki’s room one night to borrow a pair of headphones, because Minho couldn’t sleep through his music and Taemin couldn’t sleep without it, and found Jinki crying his eyes out. Minho told Taemin off for not knocking, for not respecting Jinki’s hours or space or knowing his feelings, on and on and on, until Jinki told him he was worse than Taemin. And then Minho banned folk music and ballads and breakup songs and OST’s and pretty much everything on Taemin’s current playlists from the dorm. He probably wanted to ban Taemin, too.

“I don’t need to ask about you,” Soojung says, smirking. “I know you’re worse than me. Lee Taemin, alone since birth~”

There’s nothing wrong with that. There’s nothing wrong with him. And it isn’t even true, anyway, not since birth. From primary to elementary school he had two or three girlfriends, and then one more in high school, a real one. That’s how he found out he likes men.

He’s never had a boyfriend.

Finally she stops laughing at him long enough to take a drag, then passes the cigarette back to Taemin, coughing behind her hand. He doesn’t make fun of her, just smokes and smokes, and waits to feel better.

Soojung takes so long to think of the next thing Taemin starts to think maybe there won’t be one. But before he starts to think-think, she saves him. Kind of. “I heard Jonghyun oppa’s dating an actress. He has a type, huh.”

“She’s way different from Shin Sekyung,” Taemin blurts out.

Next second he’d give anything to take it back, but it’s too late, and it’s all there on his face anyway. Everything he hasn’t said. Won’t say.

Soojung looks down at her feet. She can’t stop herself from going there, though. “Bad different? That’s what I heard.”

She hears a lot. Too much.

Taemin flicks the tip of her nose.

“Why are you asking me, you know everything already.” He thinks that’s it, he’s done, the end. Except it sits in his chest, squeezes his heart, buzzes under his skin, and smoking does no good. Nothing does. There’s only one way out. “Are people talking shit about him?”

Taemin doesn’t want to know, he doesn’t want _Jonghyun_ to know, but then, everyone but Taemin probably already does. He’s always the last one.

Soojung doesn’t want to tell him, either, he can tell that much. It’s enough for her to say, “People are shitty. They’ve got nothing better to do,” and then it kind of catches up to her, all the relationships they’ve run through in the last few minutes, and she falls silent.

Which, he didn’t mean to make her feel like shit. It’s not like she said anything wrong, either. He pinches her cheek until she smiles, tries smiling back. It only hurts a little.

The first time he saw Hong Dahae it was probably on TV. The first time he met her was for a makeup commercial, and the first thing she said to him was, “Do you want to be the girl, or should I?” And then later in the bathroom, washing her lipstick off their cheeks, Jonghyun wandered in with red lips and starry eyes, and said to Minho, “She got to kiss you but she gave me her number. It must be love~”

The next time Taemin saw her the joke was over. She was Jonghyun’s girlfriend, and he was “Taeminnie.” Jonghyun never said she’d be there, either, just that he’d buy Taemin hanwoo. Taemin got to eat all of it, too, because the two of them went off to fuck in the bathroom. It took Jonghyun one whole week to look Taemin in the eye again, and Taemin decided before they even got the check that it’d take starvation to ask Jonghyun to buy him food ever again.

Then Jonghyun started drinking, food or no, Taemin or no.

Sometimes it’s because he fought with Dahae, sometimes it’s because he held it in, sometimes it’s just because. Sometimes Jonghyun cries. He never remembers in the morning, but Taemin always does.

Yeah. Shitty.

Soojung snatches the cigarette back, “Don’t hog it,” and then asks him, a little too carefully, “Have they set a date for your comeback yet?”

“After you guys sometime. Maybe this fall?”

Taemin’s barely started recording his EP, but Soojung and the others are halfway through _Red Light_ already. SM has their comeback scheduled sometime in July, something like two months from now.

…Maybe Taemin should’ve pretended he didn’t know, asked her about it too. Maybe he could still?

Maybe he really, really should’ve, because she gives the cigarette another try instead of him, then decides to give him the facts of life. “This shit’s really bad for your voice, you know.”

“I know.”

“You should probably quit, oppa.”

“Worry about yourself, Soojung-ah,” Taemin retorts. She makes a face at him. “Seriously. Don’t start, okay? It makes a lot of stuff easier at first, and then it makes everything ten times harder. Jonghyunnie hyung told me not to. I wish I’d listened to him.”

She stubs it out. No More Cigarettes For Lunch.

“I’m up three pounds and I’m supposed to be down five. I’m already on a diet, I’m going crazy.”

Taemin’s going crazy too.

He keeps losing time, every day a little more, and he can’t find any more no matter what he tries. When he offered to buy the engineers all lunch, work through break with them, they just laughed, ruffled his hair, said, _You can spend your money on us after you make some, Taemin-ah._ And all Yongdeok hyung had to say about it was, _Go across the street, okay? There’s no time for anything else and you have to eat. You’re getting too skinny, Taemin-ah._ And before, too, every time. _Let’s take it from the top, Taemin-ah. You’re singing with too much tension, Taemin-ah. Relax. Okay, let’s move on. Don’t worry about it, Taemin-ah, you gave us enough to work with, we can just splice takes together. We’re on a schedule._ And tonight it’ll be, _You want to stay late? Aigoo~. Taemin-ah. Take all the time off they give you, or you’ll regret it when you’re my age._ Last week, meeting with Creative, it was, _You don’t feel you’ve been consulted? This process is a dialogue, and that means give-and-take. Maybe it doesn’t match your ideas perfectly, but it suits your image. We chose “Danger” with you in mind, Taemin-ah._

And months ago, at the very start: _We’re going ahead with your solo debut this year. We think it’s time, Taemin-ah._

Taemin-ah, Taemin-ah, Taemin-ah. Somewhere along the line Jonghyun became Jonghyun-ssi. Taemin would give anything to get there.

Instead he’s right here.

Time to get back up, Taemin-ah. Time to start running again.

“Say hi to Jonginnie for me,” Soojung says on their way in.

And now Taemin’s on his own.

 

Taemin can shower in the morning. That means he can sleep in his clothes too, wake up all sweaty and gross, who cares. And who needs blankets when it’s this hot in here.

There. He doesn’t have to move. Sleep. Sleep, sleep. sleep.

Contacts.

Whatever.

Alarm.

…Shit.

Taemin dies a little inside setting it for five thirty, but next second that’s nothing, because there’s a knock on the door, click of the light that has him seeing red. Then Jinki’s voice, his hand on his shoulder. “Taeminnie?”

“Yeah?”

“Your phone.”

Oh.

Taemin lost it sometime last week, and ever since he’s kept forgetting, digging in his pockets, asking anyone and everyone if they’ve seen it, trying to puzzle out where he could’ve put it. Yongdeok hyung usually lets Taemin steal his in the end, hovering at his elbow, snatching it back the minute Taemin’s done, like it might disappear if he holds onto it for a second longer than he needs to.

“It was in the couch cushions, Ahjumma found it while she was vacuuming. I charged it for you.” When Taemin reaches for it, Jinki holds on. As soon as Taemin sees the smile on his face he knows where this is going, and that it won’t be funny. “Am I too late, did you get a new one yet? Do I get to keep it~?”

Taemin’s had no time.

“Thanks, hyung.”

Jinki gives it up the second Taemin tries tugging his phone out of his grip. Nods, pats Taemin’s head. Just kinda stands there. Keeps just kinda standing there.

Taemin has no time right now, either. His clock tells him four hours.

“Good night, hyung.”

He says it to his pillow instead of Jinki, but somehow it sounds as mean as if he’d come out and said shut up or go away. But it’s Jinki, not Jonghyun, so it’s probably okay. He won’t take it to heart, and if he doesn’t want to hear it, he won’t.

Jinki’s that simple.

Sure enough, Jinki goes on like Taemin didn’t say anything at all, “You worked really hard today, huh.” He pauses. “Really late, too.”

Not hard enough. Not late enough.

“You did well, Taemin-ah.”

How would Jinki know?

It should be so easy to tell Jinki, “I’m just tired, is all. I have to get up tomorrow too,” but it’s like he has to force his voice out of his chest, and it comes out all wrong.

And all Jinki says in reply is, “Sleep well.”

Except now thanks to him, Taemin _can’t._ He listens to Jinki’s silence, and then his foot steps, and once Jinki’s gone he’s left alone in the dark with all the weird stuff everything inside him is telling him he should have said. If you want to talk, talk to me. Just not right now. Okay? Please? You always pick the worst moment. If you’re lonely, if you can’t sleep without Manager hyung’s snoring, you can have Jonghyun hyung’s bed. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

Is something wrong, hyung?

That’s such a dumb question. Taemin is so dumb. Maybe he should go sleep in Manager hyung’s bed instead. Maybe that would be even dumber.

Five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen, and Taemin can’t take it anymore. The only way out is his phone.

…Nothing from Jongin. Figures. EXO has until this weekend to prepare for promotions, so he’s busier than Taemin right now, and he’s worse than him too. If he hasn’t forgotten Taemin exists he’s probably lost his phone too. Maybe he’s skipping his meals. Maybe Taemin should be making sure he doesn’t, take his lunch breaks just to make sure Jongin takes his too. Cafeteria food probably beats lung cancer. Yeah. Tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

Taemin wakes his phone up again. It’s been long enough this time that the screen burns into his eyes, color spots everywhere, but blinking them away is a lot easier than closing his eyes again would be. Five unread messages from his mom, twenty-two from Jonghyun—

Wait, twenty-two?

_Jonghyunnie hyuuuuuuung._

It’s been one week. Taemin doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with him sometimes, he’s ten times worse than all the other hyungs combined. As long as it’s nothing bad. As long as it’s nothing Taemin’s too late to fix.

_do u need a ride to work?_

Nope. Not in a few hours, and not last Monday. Yongdeok hyung takes care of everything, Taemin already told him.

_did u listen to blue night like u said_

Taemin always does what he says. Well. Most of the time. If he doesn’t forget. If nothing else comes up.

_dont lie u fell asleep rt? hyung put u to sleep_

…Maybe. But that’s not the same as not listening.

_when u said it didnt sound like me, u were only saying that rt? honestly it hurt, hearing that from u. u know that side of me, taeminnie. ur the only one who does_

_when its just the 2 of us its quiet_

Taemin didn’t even feel the smile on his face until just now, now that it’s twisting, dying.

_what do people do when theyre not working_

_forget it why am i asking u_

Taemin didn’t say that to hurt him. He didn’t mean to.

2014 was supposed to be good to Jonghyun. Taemin really thought it would be. After years of girls lining up to break his heart, Jonghyun had someone. After years stuck in the dorm, working through holidays, going months without going home, he got to live with his family again, see them every day. And after years of running nonstop, exhausted and frustrated and sick to death of doing what the company told him, he’s had time to rest. More than he knows what to do with even. Radio was supposed to be the next good thing, a place where he could say what he really thinks and talk about whatever he wanted, where he could take a break from being Shinee’s Jonghyun for two hours, and be himself. And it is.

Taemin didn’t know Jonghyun was so lonely, is all.

He never knows. And he’s never there in time. He always ends up here, too late to say anything, too useless to help, too dumb to know how bad he should be feeling.

_came in today. if u have time hyung will buy u food. nvmnd. cafeteria. have u eaten? u got home ok rt? ur ok? dont ignore me. u were supposed to text me last night. 1 word and ill stop. taeminaaaaaaah_

And out of nowhere, there’s that smile again. It’s too much to fight it off, and if it’s weird, it’s also dark, and he’s alone. Taemin scrolls to the end.

_sorry i slept so late. get me up next time, ok? i like waking up early better than waking up alone_

There’s no point replying. Maybe if there were something from yesterday, the day before, but a week? Jonghyun’s busy right now anyway, and Taemin will probably drift off before Blue Night’s over, and forget to check his phone when he gets up.

_i cant sleep_

Just that one thing, and Taemin puts his phone on the nightstand instead of under his pillow this time, pushing it out of reach.

He closes his eyes.

Tries again.

 

“You said you were on a diet, not that you were starving yourself.”

Taemin’s eyes snap open.

“Hyung?”

Jonghyun doesn’t give him a smile, just a hand, sun at his back, blinding Taemin.

“What are you doing here?”

Like it’s completely obvious, Jonghyun says, “Looking for you.”

It’s lunchtime at the studio again. No Soojung today. No smoking. Sleep, maybe. He was almost there.

Jonghyun wiggles his fingers in Taemin’s face.

Taemin takes the hint, takes his hand. Lets Jonghyun take all his weight, just try and pull him to his feet. Split second later he’s in Jonghyun’s arms, off balance, dizzy, and Jonghyun is warm and solid, steadying him. He hasn’t worked out in months and Taemin’s still a pound or two over normal, but if Jonghyun wants to laugh in his ear, tell him, “You’re heavier than you look, but that’s not saying much,” fine. Whatever. Taemin can’t talk, so he doesn’t.

He gets his legs under him again and steps back in time to catch the smile on Jonghyun’s face, and he scrunches up his nose and narrows his eyes just to keep it there. When it comes to Jonghyun, playing cute and playing dumb are the same thing.

“Let’s go, Taeminnie,” Jonghyun says, pressing his hand to Taemin’s back, pushing him through the door and out of the sun, crowding in behind him. “I got up to come here, I haven’t eaten yet. Neither have you.”

Taemin has no time and no way to refuse, not when it’s Jonghyun and he’s giving Taemin that look, so they go across the street to the SM cafeteria.

If Jonghyun wanted to talk, he should have picked someplace quieter, but it’s probably better this way. Since the time they last saw each other, Taemin’s gotten nowhere. He’s still tired and he still hates “Danger” and he still hasn’t figured out how to make it his, and the company thinks it knows who Taemin is better than Taemin himself does. And maybe they do. But he doesn’t want to tell Jonghyun any of that, and he doesn’t want to make him try and make it better. That leaves Taemin with nothing to say, so he stuffs himself instead, lets Jonghyun pet his hair, “See, you can’t not eat, Taeminnie,” rub his thumb over the corner of his mouth, “Aigoo. Slow down, you have time,” shovel his rice onto Taemin’s tray, “It’s lunch for you but it’s breakfast for me. This is too much.” And all he says when Taemin steals his meat is, “Drink some water. You’ll get indigestion.” 

Taemin eats and eats and eats, and other people come and go. Taeyeon is the first to stay, sliding in across from them.

“You’re here again,” she says to Jonghyun.

“You are too.”

“I actually have work?” she retorts. She turns to Taemin, but she’s not talking to him. “You found him this time.” Until she is. “Taemin-ah, tell the truth, is he bothering you? Do you want noona to take care of him for you?”

Before Taemin can decide if it’d be better to answer her with his mouth full or make her wait until he can swallow, Jonghyun goes and makes it worse.

“He likes me better than you.”

She scoffs. “I’d like to hear him say that.”

Jonghyun plays with the hair at Taemin’s nape, plays with Taemin. “Me too~”

Taemin doesn’t want to play. Taeyeon’s scarier than Jonghyun, narrowing her eyes at him, singing out, “Jonghyunnie or Taeyeon noona, I wonder who it’ll be~,” but if Taemin doesn’t pick him Jonghyun will never let it go.

Like he’s read his mind, Jonghyun slips his hand down to grip Taemin’s neck, big and warm, hitting that spot right in the middle of firm and gentle. “It’s okay, Taeminnie. Don’t answer. Hyung knows your heart.”

Taemin’s shoulders shouldn’t be relaxing like this, he shouldn’t be leaning into Jonghyun’s touch, wishing he’d move on to his back next. It’s a trap. Taemin knows it.

Taeyeon, too.

“Aigoo, how cheesy. Does that kind of talk work on him?” She eyes them both. Taemin’s not sure what that look means, whether she’s trying to figure out which of them to judge harder, or considering whether it’s too much energy to care. “You want to trade Taeminnie for Joohyunnie? Pretty soon she’ll be asking me to call her unnie.”

Whatever Taemin was expecting, that’s not it. Taeyeon always says exactly what she thinks, but Taemin can never tell with her until it’s out there.

But he’s safe, he’s safe. He can go back to his food now too, that’d be even safer.

Then a finger pokes into the back of his head. Taemin reaches back for Jonghyun’s hand, twisting around, and finds Jongin instead, ignoring him to nod to Jonghyun and Taeyeon, “Hyung, noona,” dropping into the seat on Taemin’s other side. “You didn’t tell me to look for you, Taemin-ah.”

And Jongin didn’t tell Taemin he’d bleached his hair white.

“They let you guys out late.”

Taeyeon’s just saying. Everything about her is so casual so suddenly it’s painful.

Jongin doesn’t catch up until he’s already grunted, “Mm,” eyes on his food, and Taemin digs his elbow into his side, and then it’s like he remembers who he’s talking to, lowering his spoon, raising his head, starving a little longer just to tell her, “Baekhyun hyung said he has to pee, but he’s coming.”

Wrong answer. Taemin could’ve told him that, but Taeyeon gets there first, reaching across the table to pinch both his cheeks. “I didn’t ask.”

But she gets up to dump her tray anyway, one smile between the three of them, patting Jonghyun’s head, walking off. 

“She would’ve,” Jonghyun tells Jongin, like that’s that. Except, like he can’t help himself, he smirks, goes on, “How could you tell her he’s in the bathroom, Jongin-ah? Think of the rest of us. It’s better they go out to the parking lot.”

Jonghyun’s only kidding, but whatever those two are doing and wherever they’re doing it, Taemin doesn’t need to know about it. It’s just kind of hard not to.

But moving on. Jongin digs his knee into Taemin’s thigh, says, “Soojungie says you started smoking again.”

Taemin chokes.

Jonghyun pats his back instead of hitting him, passes him water instead of telling him off, and just like that, Taemin can breathe again. He’s twenty-two, not thirteen, he can do whatever he wants. Maybe Jonghyun has finally caught up with all the time that’s passed since they met, even if Soojung hasn’t.

As soon as he can speak, the first thing that comes into his head is the first thing out of his mouth. “She told me to say hi to you.”

Jongin smiles at his tone.

“They started on their choreo, when they’re not over there with you they’re over here with us.” When Taemin ignores him for his food, Jongin laughs, picks rice off his cheek. “She said you guys are on the same diet, too. I guess not~?”

Taemin lets him get away with it. There’s nothing to get away with. He’s Jonginnie to both Taemin and Soojung, but only Jongin gets to call Taemin’s name. Taemin tried being hyung to him back when they first met, but by the time he stopped being “sunbae” they were friends anyway, and Jongin was born in January, before New Year. Soojung was born in October.

And Jonghyun was born way back in 1990, and if he’s bored of this conversation, head in his hand, finger in Taemin’s side, Taemin is too. He doesn’t make Taemin talk, though, just trades looks with him, pushes his tray in front of Taemin like it’s his job to finish it off, and slouches in his seat like a little bit of kimchi and half a bowl of seaweed soup was enough to send him into a food coma. Maybe it did. He’s never been a good eater.

He has Taemin for that.

Laying his arm across the back of Taemin’s chair, Jonghyun peers over Taemin’s head to say to Jongin, “Joonmyunnie said he talked to the company about pushing things back another week.”

“It’s too late. We already pre-recorded our comeback stage.”

Jonghyun takes the words right out of Taemin’s mouth. “It’s that bad, though?”

All that means is Taemin doesn’t have to say it, worry about it coming out wrong. 

“Not for me,” Jongin says, too quickly, and then he’s left trying to explain himself. “Joonmyun hyung has to worry about everyone, but I just have to make sure I do well. And Yifan hyung was in EXO-M, so…”

He doesn’t want to talk about it, Taemin can tell. He presses his shoulder to Jonghyun’s.

“It’s SM who’ll pay in the end,” Jonghyun says, pressing back, warm and solid. “Yifan’s not making money for them anymore, but he won’t take any from you guys from now on, either.”

Jonghyun nudges Taemin’s foot with his own.

“Yeah, why do you think I’m going solo?” Taemin adds, like thirty seconds too late. “I won’t have to share at all~”

Jonghyun makes a fake outraged noise right in his ear, pinches his cheek, a little too hard, hard enough to hurt, but who cares.

Jongin laughs.

 

Taemin’s time is up before Jongin’s. Taemin makes him promise to call when he’s got time, and promises not to blame him if he forgets, and then that’s it. It feels like it’s been a million years since they last saw each other, and Taemin doesn’t even know when the next time will be, just that sooner is better. Please.

Jonghyun only came for Taemin, so he ditches Jongin to follow him outside. For Taemin, it’s a perfect summer day, fresh air, blue skies and sunshine. For Jonghyun, it must be hell. Taemin wants to tell him he’s got it backwards, that hell is over there. That the temperature control and fluorescent lights, the headphones and the mic and the eyes of the engineers, the silences only Taemin can break, and only when they say, Taemin’s own voice, that all of that is worse.

But Jonghyun can’t follow him into the studio anyway, and it’d be too lame to walk Taemin back across the street, Taemin mom or no. This is as far as he goes. Taemin’s already alone again.

“You’ve been smoking?” Jonghyun says. “You told me you quit.”

It’s not goodbye, and it’s ten minutes past being fair game. Jonghyun doesn’t give a shit. Too bad Taemin doesn’t either.

“Look who’s talking.”

“I’m trying. You’re not.” Jonghyun narrows his eyes at him. “Don’t give me that look. You think I’m being mean to you? It’s for your own good, Taemin-ah.”

“I know.”

Taemin does.

Jonghyun can’t keep himself from smiling, and he’s no good at hiding it either, turning his eyes from Taemin’s, pressing his fist to his mouth. “But you don’t want to hear it?”

He loves it when Taemin talks back. He’s so easy. He’s so _weird._

He wouldn’t be Jonghyunnie hyung if he weren’t.

“I have to go, hyung. I have to get back.”

Taemin has to make himself say it, but the second it’s out there he’d give anything for Jonghyun to make him a liar. Tell Taemin he still has time, ask Taemin to walk him to his car, take Taemin and run, just _something._ Anything.

“I found my phone,” Taemin says.

“I know.”

That’s right. Taemin forgot. He told Jonghyun he couldn’t sleep, and then he did.

Maybe he should tell Jonghyun _I can’t do this._

But that’s stupid, so Taemin says instead, “I lost it.”

Jonghyun nods, passes his hand over Taemin’s hair. “I figured.”

“All I meant was you can text me again now.”

“And what, you might even answer?” Jonghyun’s laugh does this weird thing to Taemin’s heart, lurching, dropping, falling, and he’s not sure it’s not doing it to his face, too. When he turns to go, though, Jonghyun catches his arm, “Taemin-ah, wait,” bringing him back around, trying to catch his eye next. “I’m sticking around, I have some stuff to work on.”

It’s nothing he couldn’t do at home, at a café, on a park bench maybe, staring at the river, feeling the wind on his face. Anywhere but here. Taeyeon was right, and Taemin knows it.

“What stuff?” Taemin says, instead of all the things he probably should.

And when Jonghyun gives him an answer, “It doesn’t matter,” Taemin doesn’t ask him for a real one. He doesn’t stop Jonghyun before he says this next thing, either. “I just meant, I can take you home tonight.”

And he can’t make himself say no.

“If I get out before Blue Night.”

Jonghyun gives him a look.

“That’s midnight, Taeminnie. There’s no if.”

Taemin hesitates. “What’s the latest I can go then?”

“Eleven?”

It’s only one now. That’s Jonghyun’s whole day down the drain, just so Taemin’s not alone at the end of his. Which, he has Yongdeok hyung. If he has to talk, he can talk to him. And if he can’t, he’s got his parents, or if he gets out too late to make it home tonight, Minho and Jinki. And he has his phone again. He’s being so selfish.

“I’m done with recording at nine.”

Jonghyun gives him a smile, his biggest and brightest and stupidest yet, white teeth and half moon eyes, like Taemin finally got the answer right.

“Text me whenever. I’ll be right over here.”

And Taemin will be right over there.

_Tell me I can do this, hyung._

He kind of has to.

 

“Tomorrow you’re back here again, and then the next day, same thing, plus a meeting with Creative. And then on Saturday…”

“I don’t need to know, hyung. As long as you do,” Taemin cuts in. “I’ll just forget.”

Yongdeok hyung levels him with a look and moves on, like Taemin didn’t just interrupt a man ten years his senior or anything.

“…Saturday, you don’t need to come in. See, this is why you should let me finish.”

“Why not?”

“Huh?” It takes Yongdeok hyung too long to catch up. “Oh. The engineers are taking a day to catch up on production stuff. Mixing, probably? They said they don’t need you here for that.”

_Why not?_

Taemin bites his tongue. The clock told him he was done for the day, and every window they pass tells them it’s twilight out there in the real world, but in here, dead air, undead fluorescent lights, it’s the same time as it was when Taemin put his headphones on again and the engineer told him, _From the top, Taemin-ah. Stop worrying about interpreting the song so much and focus on hitting every note. Get out of your head. All we need from you is one clean take._

Nothing ever changes.

“Did they talk to you about it? They didn’t even ask me.”

If he sounds like a brat, so what. It’s only Yongdeok hyung. He’s supposed to be on Taemin’s side, but he’ll probably tell Taemin there are none.

Sure enough, the first thing out of his mouth is, “We all have our jobs here, Taemin-ah.” 

They hit the stairs. Taemin doesn’t wait for him to come up with something he doesn’t know, clattering down the steps two at a time, leaving Yongdeok hyung behind. His legs are shorter than Jonghyun’s, it’s probably killing him to keep up. Not even probably, definitely.

…It’s not his fault Taemin’s had a shitty day, no more than it’s his fault that Taemin finds out everything through him, and that it’s nothing but shit. Taemin cuts his stride in half, then dawdles at the bottom of the stairs, three flights down. He turns his phone on while he waits, then waits some more as it buzzes to life.

Jonghyun.

_are u staying late?_

_dont answer if ur busy_

_dont forget and leave me here either~_

_taeminnie, fighting!_

And Yongdeok hyung.

“All I’m saying is, if you try to do theirs you’ll just make things harder on yourself. And anyway, they know what they’re doing,” he tells Taemin. “Saturday is your first day off in four weeks. Take it. Enjoy it. If you really hate it so much, try sleeping through it.”

When Taemin looks up Yongdeok hyung’s smiling at him.

“You don’t have to give me a ride me home today.”

“Aigoo, now you’re mad at me?”

Somehow Taemin’s smiling back.

“No, it’s not like that. I’ve got someone waiting.”

Yongdeok hyung studies him narrowly. “Special someone?”

Taemin knows what he’s asking. He’s been through it before with Shinee’s managers, and before that, with his parents. He’s never given any of them a reason, not ever, not when his mom was worried he might fall harder for a girl than he’d fallen for dancing or studying, and not when the company was worried he was getting too close to f(x), or that he might confuse his TV marriage for the real thing. And if Taemin told them he’s gay, that’d only make it worse. Everything. A lot worse. It was enough, just telling the others.

So yeah, he knows. He just doesn’t care. Not right now at least.

“Mm.” He’s not even lying. Yongdeok hyung’s eyes widen and he opens his mouth to reply, but Taemin cuts him off, stuffing his phone in his pocket, squeezing his shoulder. “See you tomorrow, hyung.”

Down the hallway, through the doors, and he’s out. This whole time, it was that easy.

_where did u park?_

 

“Are you hungry?”

That’s not the first thing Jonghyun’s said to him, it’s just the first thing that needs an answer. And it’s the first time Jonghyun’s expected one, too, glancing at Taemin, fiddling with the dials between them, lowering the volume of the radio to a murmur.

“There’ll be something at home,” Taemin says automatically. Jonghyun nods, goes back to the road, doesn’t take his turn to talk. Too late, Taemin catches up. “Are you?”

“Not really.”

Jonghyun never is. For Taemin, eating can be an escape, a break, comfort even, but it’s also eating. He likes it. He loves food. He couldn’t live without it. Neither could Jonghyun, but it’s different. He’s different. For him, eating is a habit, a chore. It’s to the point where he forgets to do it sometimes.

Not on Taemin’s watch. “I ate your lunch.”

Which was Jonghyun’s breakfast, he said it himself.

“I’ll get a sandwich later.” Jonghyun feels Taemin’s look before he sees it even, Taemin knows from the crook of his mouth. He’s ready when Jonghyun reaches for him, goes in to pinch his cheek, leaning away so Jonghyun’s fingertips just barely brush his skin. He’s not smiling back, or anything. He’s not that easy. It’d take a lot more than Jonghyun saying, “Should I turn Blue Night into a mukbang? MBC keeps telling me to try visual radio.”

Taemin hates that. Going on air is bad enough, but it’s so easy to forget when you’re on camera too, do the kind of stuff only your biggest, blindest fans find cute. Yawn, fidget, scratch yourself, pick your nose. Maybe eat your boogers.

“I’d watch,” he says.

Jonghyun sees right through him.

“I guess it’s harder to pick on what I say than how stupid I look saying it.”

“More like, both is more fun?”

“Taemin-ah~”

Taemin doesn’t know he has any laughter in him until it’s out there, that stupid, hiccupping one he always tried to swallow as a teenager, the one that always makes Jonghyun smile. Now, too.

“When I debut you can make fun of me too.” It’s a joke. At least it’s supposed to be. “You would right now, if you’d been there today.”

Jonghyun doesn’t think it’s funny, though. This time when he reaches for Taemin, Taemin lets him get away with it, push his finger into Taemin’s cheek, smooth his hair back from his face, blind and clumsy.

And he lets Jonghyun go there, too, when all it’d take to stop him is a word or a look. “It’s that much worse, doing it alone?”

For Taemin, yes? If he were Jonghyun, he’d probably be fine. 

“It’s a lot of the same. I just thought it’d be different?”

Nobody ever listens to Taemin when they’re together as Shinee, not even Jonghyun all the time, and no matter how old he gets, he’ll always be the maknae. Maybe he’ll always be sixteen. He just didn’t know that going in, is all.

“It’s like, we had five million meetings before they even set up studio time. They showed me songs, and they asked for my opinion on stuff—what genres I wanted to try, what concepts I’d prefer, if I had any goals for the album. And now that we’ve started recording it’s like nothing we talked about.” And now he’s whining, and if he hates himself just hearing it, how would Jonghyun feel, after waiting around for him all day. “Creative keeps giving me new songs, then scrapping them halfway through. I guess they kept on having meetings without me. I don’t know why they brought me in on them to begin with.”

Taemin only stops to breathe, but right away, Jonghyun is there.

“You don’t like them?” Taemin sees the red light coming same as Jonghyun, but he doesn’t turn away in time to avoid his eyes. “The songs, not Creative.”

Jonghyun tries a smile on him. Like that was supposed to be funny, like making it into a joke helps at all.

“It’s not about liking them or not,” Taemin tells him, but only because he’s Jonghyun, and he’s really trying here. “And I don’t hate Creative, either, and I know they know what they’re doing. I just wish I did, too.”

They can’t take his lines away or tell him to put his head down and dance this time, but if Taemin’s back where he started after everything, it’s not because they put him there. It’s because he hasn’t done enough to get out.

_This is supposed to be my album, hyung, not SM’s. There’s a difference, right?_

Either way it's his life.

“For them to listen to you, you have to speak up, right?” Jonghyun says. “This isn’t criticism, Taeminnie. Just…sometimes you get frustrated with people for ignoring you or misunderstanding you, but a lot of times you don’t make yourself clear, either.” He gives Taemin like five seconds to get mad or defend himself, chewing on his lip, stealing little looks at him, but all Taemin has to do is wait him out. Jonghyun didn’t even say anything wrong, or bad, and if he says he’s sorry next Taemin won’t know what to do with him. “I know how hard it is for you to put yourself out there, and I know how much it hurts you to try, but I also know you’re not a quitter. You’ve worked so hard to get where you are.”

_Hyung is proud of you._

It’s better Jonghyun didn’t say that out loud. Taemin’s face is already getting a little weird on him, and even if Seoul can’t tell, if he tries to hide, Jonghyun will know.

“I am trying. That’s the problem. I’m already trying as hard as I can.”

Jonghyun doesn’t take his word for it, prompting him, so gently, “What do you say when they change things around on you?”

Too gently.

“They get to say no, hyung. I don’t.”

How is that Jonghyun’s fault?

Taemin feels bad enough, snapping at him, but then Jonghyun goes and tries again.

“Don’t think about it like that. Try making them say yes to you on some things instead.” And now he’s smiling at Taemin again, like he can’t help it. “If it’s you, it should be okay.”

“If it’s you, maybe,” Taemin retorts. Jonghyun is weak to cute things, and Taemin’s always been one of them, whether he sees himself that way or not, whether he likes it or not. Which he doesn’t. At all. “I’m not doing aegyo. I’m done being a baby, that’s the whole point.”

“Use it against them, Taeminnie,” Jonghyun persists, only halfway serious now, probably laughing at Taemin inside. “Even if Creative is immune, Lee Sooman sunsaeng can’t handle you. Your face is your weapon.” His smile widens. “Not just your face, your everything. You know it too, that’s the scariest part. You’re a fox disguised as a bear.”

Jonghyun is impossible.

Up his spine, down to his fingertips, Taemin’s seized with this crazy urge to pinch Jonghyun’s cheeks, pull them until he makes Jonghyun ugly, until Jonghyun’s laughing too hard to talk or smile or drive or anything. But yeah. Crazy.

“Only to you,” Taemin says instead, again, in case Jonghyun missed it the first time. He thinks he’s had the last word, and then he thinks again, watching Jonghyun watch the road. “And you have more aegyo than I do, anyway.”

Right on cue, Jonghyun flashes him a vee sign. Taemin makes a face at him in return, makes him laugh out loud.

“See, you’re on a different level. Whatever you do is cute.”

Taemin can’t win with him. He can’t lose either, though, that’s the thing.

They lapse into silence. Taemin lingers on Jonghyun’s face instead of going back to the world outside. Fiddles with the AC just so Jonghyun will slap his hand away, then folds his arms across his chest and warms his hands against his body. Stays in Antarctica with Jonghyun instead of rolling down his window, feeling the warm summer night kiss his skin, letting the wind and the city drown out Jonghyun’s lecture about fuel efficiency.

All that means is Taemin’s there to see it when Jonghyun gets this look on his face he’s only seen a couple times, and only when it’s something bad, and he’s there to hear it when Jonghyun says, “Thank you for going first, Taeminnie. Take good care of me when it’s my turn.”

“You’re so weird.” That’s all Taemin knows to say, one wrong thing after another. “Next you’ll be calling me sunbaenim.”

Jonghyun takes so long to answer his silence squirms in Taemin’s stomach and sits on the tip of his tongue, so many stupid ways to fix he doesn’t know what. But then he says in a rush, “Honestly, I’m scared just to meet with them.”

Taemin doesn’t know how to take that, if Jonghyun means it, if he’s just saying. Jonghyun’s voice tells him he does, his face tells him he doesn’t. Taemin’s heart doesn’t tell him anything, squeezing in on itself like it’s trying to hide.

Too late, he says, “It’s not that bad, hyung. It’s all people you already know.”

He should’ve said that from the beginning. He shouldn’t be whining to Jonghyun, not when he’s going next, watching Taemin to see what to expect.

“They don’t know me, though?” Jonghyun keeps his eyes on the road, shy all of the sudden. “Not like you do.”

Maybe not, but Jonghyun won’t let them turn him into someone he’s not, either. He never has.

There has to be a right way to say this, but all Taemin’s got are the words he can find right now. “You’re not a quitter, either, and you know exactly what your music sounds like. You know what album you want to make, too, you’ve got half of it in your phone already.” And when that doesn’t get that look off Jonghyun’s face, “That’s a lot more than I had going into this, hyung.”

When he was a trainee, debuting as a solo act had been his dream. When he became Shinee’s Taemin, he stopped dreaming, started working harder instead. And when SM told him he was going solo…Taemin walked out of that meeting and straight into a wall. He had no idea what to do with himself, nowhere to go but the practice room. He doesn’t have a thousand demos, he doesn’t have Jonghyun’s body, and he doesn’t have his voice. All he has is the song Jonghyun promised him and six years in this life, telling him to run faster, dance harder, work later, do better next time.

From a hundred miles away Jonghyun half asks, half whines, “Why are we talking about me now? Let’s not.”

Taemin gives him a smile, a real one. It comes easier than he thought it would, but then, it’s Jonghyun. He’d give him anything. He’d say anything. If he knew what Jonghyun wanted right when he wanted it, if Jonghyun would just tell him, he would.

“Why? You talk about yourself on the radio all the time but you won’t talk to me.”

“I don’t think you get to say that to me, Taeminnie. Aigoo.”

“I don’t know, I think I like Jjong-D better than Jonghyunnie hyung.”

“Stop it.” Jonghyun’s trying so hard not to smile, Taemin can tell. “Please, Taeminnie. Taemin sunbaenim.”

“You started it, Jonghyun-ah.”

Jonghyun shoots him a look, one hundred percent over it all of the sudden.

“Seriously, stop. Be good. Hyung is driving.”

Taemin waits to turn the AC down until Jonghyun’s too busy checking his blind spot and getting over to slap his hand away again. Messing with it is the same as messing with him. Taemin knows better. When he feels like it.

“So drive, I’m not stopping you,” he says, pressing his cheek to his window, smushing his own smile before Jonghyun can even get his hands on him, “Jamong~”

Jonghyun doesn’t make him wait, and he shows no mercy. Taemin probably shouldn’t need him to either, he’s gone in blind, one hand against Taemin’s whole body, but he finds all Taemin’s weak points in half a second, under his ribs, up his side, and Taemin has nowhere to hide. Jonghyun tickles him and tickles him and tickles him, until he’s crushed up against his door and he can’t breathe and he can’t think and every last thing inside him has come out as laughter.

 

Two days later, when he’s supposed to be smiling, he has to force it. The engineers can’t tell, but Taemin can’t blame them either. They’re not supposed to.

This time when the clock struck nine, instead of telling Taemin, “You did well today,” the main engineer called him into the control room for the first time, asked him how he’d like to hear the last two weeks of work played back to him. Taemin couldn’t tell him it’s not about what he likes or not, if it’s bad he has to know, so he knows where he went wrong, exactly how to fix it.

The things Taemin could say all boil down to, “Thank you, Kim PD,” and now here he is, doing his best to mean it.

Yongdeok hyung claps him on the back, the staff pat his shoulder, return all his fake smiles with real ones, and Kim PD pats the seat next to him, kicks his feet up, fiddles with some dials, and then “Danger” kicks in.

And then his voice comes on and his ears go hot, but he keeps them open. Listens.

“That part’s sloppy, right? And you can hear my voice straining that time. The part where I go _daaaanger~”_

Kim PD nods, turns to one of his assistants. “Make a note for tomorrow.”

Oh right. Tomorrow. Mixing. His day off. 

Taemin was going to spend it across the street in the practice room with “Danger” since he can’t spend it here, but are they saying today is it? He’s done?

It’s not like he’ll be alone. There are two other songs in production, and who knows. If he works harder and longer on those, he might not end up in this same place again.

Taemin’s heart was beating in time with the music, too fast, getting too far ahead of him, but as the final note dies and Kim PD says, “Good work, Taemin-ah,” it drops like a stone.

Before he can stop himself he says, “I can do better,” and then it’s out there, and it’s nothing to try, even if that means wheedling. “I don’t mind staying late.”

“It’s not a problem. We’ll probably double or triple track that line anyway.”

“One more take. Really, I can do it.”

All that does is make him repeat himself, “It’s not a problem,” and when that doesn’t get a nod or a smile out of Taemin, “but _if it were,_ we’ve still got twenty or thirty on tape, we could patch something together. Try not to stress yourself out so much, okay? That’s our thing.” He stands, patting Taemin on the head. “And this is just a demo. We can show you the master on Monday.”

He’s done.

Taemin is too.

“I’ve been coming here for six years, you know.”

“What?”

And suddenly Yongdeok hyung is there, squeezing his shoulder, urging him to his feet, asking him clear as day, “Are you going to the practice room or home after this, Taeminnie?”

Shutting him up.

“I don’t know what it’s like with other groups, but you’ve never worked with Shinee before,” Taemin says, keeping his eyes on Kim PD instead of the staff frozen around them. “When we met I was already Taemin-ah, PD-nim. You’d never even met me, to talk down to me.”

Kim PD’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t stop what he’s doing either, shuffling papers, taking up his coat from the back of his chair and shrugging into it. And it’s in his I’m-not-mad-voice that he says, “Are you talking down to me right now?”

_Should I try? Would that get through to you?_

“We’re supposed to be a team,” is all Taemin can think to say, before the other half of that comes rising up in him, tightening his chest, sticking to the tip of his tongue. “I want to do my part, but you have to let me. Please.”

That gives Kim PD pause.

“You sure it’s that?” he says. “It’s not that you don’t trust me to do mine?”

Taemin can’t move and if he opens his mouth his heart might fall out, his stomach, too. Anything might. 

Too late, too soon, he begins, “It’s not that,” but Kim PD cuts him off, hands on his shoulders, between his shoulder blades, steering him into the hallway, away from everyone else.

“Listen,” he says. “I’m working on SM’s time, for SM’s money, same as you. This isn’t my album, or yours. It’s theirs. If you have issues with Creative’s scheduling or the direction it’s going in, take it up with them. Don’t start with me.”

For several agonizing moments there’s nothing Taemin can say to that, and then there’s too much, crowding his mouth, whiting out his brain, sinking into his bones. He keeps Kim PD waiting and waiting, trying to come up with something that won’t make him sound like a child or an idiot or waste both their time, because this is the first time someone’s talked to Taemin like an adult, and he can’t get mad or scared or no one ever will again. He has to make sense. He has to talk this out.

He has to say _something._

Round and round, tighter and tighter, until the only thing he’s got left is, “It’s not just an album. This is my life. I have to take responsibility.”

As soon as he hears himself he hates himself. He’s fine, so why does he sound like he’s about to cry?

For the longest moment Kim PD just looks at him.

“Taemin-ah,” he begins, before catching the look on Taemin’s face. “Lee Taemin-ssi.” Of all things he smiles. “You’re tired, okay?” Not okay. “Go home tonight. Rest up. We’ll need you at your best on Monday.”

Taemin’s not going to cry.

He won’t.

And he’s not going to say anything he can’t take back, anything stupid like, “You don’t, though?” But then it’s out of his mouth before he can stop himself, and his throat’s closed up on him, and there’s no way out. “You could probably just splice the rest of the album together from the shit I’ve already recorded.”

“Let’s go, Taemin-ah.”

Yongdeok hyung. Not him too.

“Taemin-ah.”

Not that, again.

“I need a cigarette.”

He’s not sure he’s said that out loud until he’s out into the night, under the moon, fresh summer air in his lungs, and he can breathe again, and it’s too late for him to do anything else. Too much.

One cigarette and he’ll find Yongdeok hyung and apologize.

Two and he texts him.

_staying late. can get myself home_

Three.

 

Taemin wakes up.

For as long as he can he pretends he didn’t, face mashed into his pillow, twilight world behind his eyelids. Then he feels for his phone. Once he finds it he’s out of excuses, so he rolls over and texts Jongin like a good friend.

_good luck today ^^_

There.

Jongin won’t reply. Taemin can try the whole drifting off again thing.

He’s still right here, tired and gross and kind of hungry when his phone buzzes.

_dont need it^^_

_u know comeback is prerecorded rt_

Taemin’s been at this longer than him, of course he knows, and anyway, that’s not what he meant. Jongin’s day probably started hours ago already, and it probably won’t end until this time tomorrow. Four minutes on stage is nothing, it’s everything else he’s worried about.

But anyway.

_dont tell me anything. will see for myself_

_which show?_

Taemin waits while Jongin asks someone else, then lets him pretend like he knew.

_music core_

Taemin lies there for another fifteen minute eternity, telling himself he has to get up, he has to go to work, he’s wasting his own time, more and more sure he won’t be able to sleep ever again. It’s his bladder that drives him out of bed in the end, and from there, the next thing is easier, and then the next.

Coming out of the shower, he finds Jinki at the kitchen table, glass of water and phone, no breakfast. Not yet, at least. The only rice in the dorm is uncooked, and Taemin’s not waiting an hour to eat, so they’ll just have to go without. But there’s some banchan from Minho’s mom in the fridge that doesn’t look too old, so there. Breakfast.

“Where’s Minho hyung?” Solid minute chewing and still no answer. “Hyung?”

Jinki meets his eyes long enough to make sure Taemin sees him shrug this time, then goes back to his phone. Taemin put all the tupperware where Jinki could reach it, but he hasn’t even picked up his chopsticks.

Taemin sets his down.

“Did you drink last night or something?” Jinki shoots him a look, like that was an accusation and not a question. Whatever. “Food helps, hyung.”

Jinki kind of nods, kind of eyes him, head in hand, mouth smushed into a half-smile. Taemin knows Jinki knows already, he was just saying. He wasn’t even ragging on him or anything, he’s not Minho.

He’s not about to start up either, so he eats his annoyance, until he can say normally, “Jonginnie’s comeback is today, if you want to watch. I don’t know what time.”

Oh. That’s right. Minho is MCing today. If Taemin remembers he gets to make fun of them both later. Maybe he can watch with Soojung and the rest of f(x) in the break room at SM, since Jinki so obviously doesn’t give a shit.

Maybe it’s not him. Maybe it’s Taemin.

To his food he says, “I’m sorry I ignored you last time, hyung. I was tired.”

It sounds like an excuse. It would’ve been better not to say anything, probably. Jinki probably doesn’t even remember when last time was, and he has so many other people to talk to—Minho, Kibum and Jonghyun, his parents, all his friends back from the army, his StarCraft teammates. Himself even. Taemin’s probably last on that list.

Jinki doesn’t tell him he’s not. He doesn’t tell him anything, probably because he’s not listening, probably because he doesn’t care. When Taemin risks a glance at him, he’s on his phone. Yep.

“You don’t want to talk now?” Now that Taemin’s staring down another day, not when he’s on the other end of it. “Is it me? Are you mad?”

Maybe Taemin should be. He’s getting there fast, faster than Jinki looks him in the face again, silent, surprised, like, _Don’t be stupid, Taemin-ah._ And then he returns to whatever friend he’s texting or game he’s playing or thing he’s reading, like that’s that. Taemin can shut up and stop being stupid anytime now.

He probably should, too, but instead he’s sitting here, staring at the crown of Jinki’s head, stomach tightening, head spinning. “Hyuuuung.” Taemin has this insane urge to snatch Jinki’s phone away, tell him, “I have so much shit to deal with already, now I have to deal with yours too?”

Jinki stares, because yeah. Taemin said that out loud.

“Whatever. I’m going to work.”

Jinki grabs his wrist on his way up. Taemin doesn’t know what his fucking problem is, but then, nobody ever thinks ignoring Taemin means they have one. Not him, not the other hyungs, not fucking Creative, not the fucking engineers, not fucking Yongdeok hyung, _Saturday is your first day off in four weeks. Take it. Enjoy it. If you really hate it so much—_

Saturday. Jongin and Minho, Music Core, duh, it’s Saturday.

Which means Friday was yesterday, which means Jinki’s throat surgery.

Which means Taemin is the worst person on the planet. When he works himself up to meeting his eyes again Jinki doesn’t even say anything.

He can’t.

 

Taemin tries sitting it out, first on the couch next to Jinki, and then his bed when the television can’t break the silence between them, and then on one of the benches outside their building. The sky is grey instead of blue, ghost of spring when it should be summertime, and everyone else around him is dressed like it’s a Saturday morning in Gangnam. He can feel them looking at him, wet hair, no makeup, giant whitehead on his cheek, flip flops and gym shorts. But that beats not being able to look Jinki in the face, and if they’re making him feel alone, a few strangers’ eyes a few seconds at a time, how alone did he make Jinki feel just now?

So here he is. Stuck. As dumb as he was when he woke up today.

Taemin’s third time calling him, Jonghyun picks up on the first ring.

Instead of hello he says, “You miss me, right? You want me there?”

…Huh?

Taemin guesses so? If Jonghyun wants to put it like that?

Jonghyun gives him all of two seconds to figure it out. His sigh is so light in Taemin’s ear, and the air is so heavy with rain and his silence both.

And then he says it. “You’re in the mood?” Um. What? Jonghyun sighs again, louder this time. “You’re the one who kicked me out last night. Maybe don’t next time? I’m just, I’m really tired.”

He’s not talking to Taemin. Dahae probably. Not Taemin. Taemin’s not Dahae, he’s Taemin, this is _Taemin,_ and he really, really needs to tell Jonghyun that. Too many words, no breath to say them, no time—

“Do you want me to talk dirty to you or something?” Jonghyun asks him. Taemin _knows_ that voice, he can’t not. It’s Jonghyun for ‘I know what you want from me, don’t pretend you don’t.’ “I’m no good over the phone, baby. And you need more than my voice.” _Say something. Say ANYTHING. Don’t just sit here and choke and let hyung say to you,_ “Your fingers aren’t enough? Mine were, the first time. But I guess this is the fourth or fifth. You need more, huh. You need me inside you again, filling you, fucking you? You need my dick.”

_“Hyung.”_

Long silence.

Loooong silence.

Taemin thinks he might be dead. On fire. Just something. His body isn’t his own anymore, somebody did something to it and it wasn’t him, hot and cold, skin tingling, mouth dry, heart pounding, stomach opening up.

“Taeminnie?”

Jonghyun.

“You there?”

Jonghyun for, ‘How bad is it? Do you need hyung to do the talking?’

So loudly his ears hurt to hear it, so loudly anyone could hear, the bird chirping in the tree, the dad walking his kid to their car, the grandmothers a bench over, Taemin tells him, “Jinki hyung had his surgery.”

“I’m sorry, Taeminnie, I didn’t check to see who—”

“He can’t talk and I don’t know what to do,” Taemin says over him, so rushed the words jumble together. “I forgot it was this week already, I got mad at him for ignoring me just now. I suck.” He takes a deep breath, then another when Jonghyun doesn’t fill the silence, and then another. Another. Just until he can say, so careful it hurts, “I woke you up, too, right? It’s okay, go back to bed. I can figure this out. There’s nothing to figure out.”

There.

Except, instead of listening to him, Jonghyun says, “I was your first call?”

“Yeah.”

Who else is there?

“Not Kibummie?”

Taemin didn’t really think about it before, but he thinks about it now, digging his toes into the grass. “He’s probably filming with his wife, right?” He knows how that goes. “And it’s Saturday, Minho hyung’s got work, he was gone when I got up.”

“Are you calling from the dorm?”

“It’s just me and him. I was gonna go into practice later but I don’t want to leave him alone.”

“It’s only his voice, Taemin-ah.” That’s as far as Taemin can listen for a second, ears going hot again, then his face, his whole body. But somehow he doesn’t explode into a million pieces, just stays right where he is, and Jonghyun’s the one that said all that stuff to Taemin but he doesn’t go there. “The rest of him is fine, right?”

Jinki.

“I don’t know. You know how he gets.” 

_You get the same way._

Only worse.

“I’ll come over,” Jonghyun says.

Before Taemin can think twice he blurts out, “You said you were tired,” and then he does, and it’s bad again. It’s so much worse, and he did it to himself.

Jonghyun laughs at him.

“I said a lot of things, Taeminnie,” he says now. “You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t stop me there?”

That’s a question. Probably not a real one, but still. It’s Taemin’s turn to talk. 

He’s still working on getting himself unstuck when Jonghyun rescues him. First it’s, “I’ll come over, just stay put,” and then, rethinking a little, “Go back inside, it looks like rain.” That leaves Taemin to figure out what gave him away, the city or the wind, before he catches up to Jonghyun, goes to hang up like he’s supposed to—“Taemin-ah.”

“I won’t tell anyone, don’t worry.”

His voice doesn’t sound as red as his face. Good.

“I’m not. I know you won’t.” Jonghyun pauses, long enough to make Taemin’s stomach squirm, but it’s not about that. “Just…you’ll stay with me, right? You won’t go in to work?”

Taemin was going to worry about looking him in the face first, he hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“If Jinki hyung asks me, sure~”

“I’m asking. That’s not enough?” It is. It’s just no fun for Taemin, being that easy. “You want my help with him, but he likes you better than me.”

Jinki probably thinks he’s fine without either of them, and no one ever asked him, but maybe he’d rather be alone. Maybe he’d like it better if Taemin spent the day with his album instead of him, and Jonghyun drifted off again or went and had phone sex or whatever with the right person. Or maybe not.

Maybe whatever. Taemin has to get up before anything else. Get off the phone. Go back to his life.

“I’m tired too, hyung.”

 

Jonghyun takes forty minutes to show up with wet everything and squeaky shoes and grocery bags in both hands. He’s the one who told Taemin it would rain and he’s the one who forgot his umbrella, and he’s the crazy person who’d rather catch cold than wear a coat in seventy-five degrees…but he’s only here because Taemin asked, so Taemin lets him in without comment, lets him pass a hand over his hair, push past him without a word. Jonghyun kicks his sneakers off in the entryway and walks his loot over to the kitchen table, then drips his way to their room to change. There. All his problems solved, save Jinki.

Jonghyun didn’t lure him away from the TV, but the promise of food does. Jinki comes into the kitchen just as Taemin goes for the first bag, tangerines spilling out onto the table. He helps Taemin before they roll onto the floor, too, squished to his side, catching them with his body. Taemin smiles at him instead of telling him you have to peel them anyway so the five second rule doesn’t even apply, and Taemin probably wouldn’t care if it did.

Jinki smiles back. He wouldn’t either. He’s worse than Taemin.

“Those aren’t for you, hyung,” Jonghyun says from behind them, toweling his hair, bare feet, T-shirt and track pants. He pushes his way between them, and reaches for the other bags, apple juice and Melona ice bars and B-B-Big ice pops, Taemin’s childhood staring up at him. Jinki’s too, because Jonghyun says, “These are.” And at the look Jinki gives him, Jonghyun bumps his shoulder, tells him, “No citrus, hyung. I looked it up. Hurry up, pick what you want so I can put the rest in the freezer.”

Taemin doesn’t get to pick anything, so he leaves Jinki to it and goes back to his diet, flopping down onto the floor in front of the TV. Jinki’s got the channel turned to Minho and Music Core already.

“Has Jonginnie gone yet?”

No answer. Which, fucking _duh._

Just a couple seconds shriveling up inside, curling in on himself, before Jonghyun calls back, “Nope,” and Minho’s voice tells him, “Up next we have EXO-K~!”

Taemin doesn’t even deserve ice cream.

He doesn’t deserve tangerines, either, but he still takes the one Jinki passes him, sitting up next to him, eyes glued to the screen, heart in his throat. If something big had gone wrong, there’s no way SM would’ve let it on TV, and if Jongin had made a mistake, he would’ve told Taemin.

He’s going to be fine. He did well. He always does.

Jonghyun follows Jinki in and plops down on Taemin’s other side with the rest of the tangerines, rustling through the bag, filling Jinki’s silence, narrating in the stupidest voice ever, “DO~! Kai~!”

Suho, Chanyeol, Sehun, Baekhyun.

“Overdose.”

_Go, Jonginnie…!_

“What did they do to his hair?”

Is he supposed to be a mad scientist or something?

Jonghyun laughs. Grabs Taemin’s wrist as he follows along with Jongin’s movements, throwing him off beat, taking Taemin’s tangerine and pressing another into his hand, already peeled. It doesn’t compute that he’s supposed to eat it until Jonghyun’s plucked it away again, a piece for him and a piece for Taemin, stuffing it into his mouth, and Taemin’s lips close around Jonghyun’s thumb.

_Mine were, the first time._

Finger in his side, Jonghyun’s voice in his head.

_Your fingers aren’t enough for you?_

In his ear, half singing, half shouting.

“This is OVERDOSE.”

And another finger, and then Jinki’s knee digging into his thigh, because Jinki. Taemin turns, finds him lip syncing for his life, eyes screwed shut, ice pop for a mic, hand clawing at his heart, lost in his own tragedy. It doesn’t fit the song, and it’s a joke he’s played a billion times over the years, sometimes on Taemin and the others, sometimes on their fans, and always, always, always on himself.

The smile Taemin gives him is real. The laugh, halfway there. And then not at all, hitching in his chest, coming out weird, because out of nowhere Jonghyun’s laid his head on Taemin’s thigh, hair tickling his skin.

“All white is cool. What’s the concept, are they doctors?” Jonghyun says.

If Taemin had to guess, EXO-M is in all black. But since Jinki can’t say it, smiling to himself, wiggling his toes instead of watching the screen, Taemin has to. “They keep saying they need one. I guess they can end the song early?”

It’s over before the joke can land, anyway. Which it doesn’t. MBC cuts to commercials, Jinki levers himself up on Taemin’s shoulder and then his head and goes off to pee, and Jonghyun half snorts half grunts, puff of air on Taemin’s leg. There’s nothing to see until Jonghyun rolls onto his back, digging his thumb into the next tangerine. He always pulls the stupidest face when he’s concentrating, squinting and frowning. His hair is in his eyes, too. Taemin gets it for him.

There’s nothing to say, either. Not until both Jinki and Minho come back.

“Did he leave here dressed like that, did you let him?”

Jonghyun cranes to give Jinki a look, so Taemin doesn’t have to put his shrug into words. He probably shouldn’t get in the middle, either, and say, “It’s probably the coordi noonas' doing,” because Jonghyun turns his eyes on him instead. Smirks up at him, and Taemin knows what’s coming.

“You’re the last person who should talk, Taemin-ah. You owe them your career. Your life, too.”

Whatever.

“I’ve gotten better lately.”

Around a tangerine slice, Jonghyun says, “Uh huh. Does your mom pick your clothes now?”

“When we were running late you used to,” Taemin retorts, “and sometimes I stole yours, too.” If he’s a fashion victim, he’s also Jonghyun’s. And it’s not like Jonghyun’s much better anyway, and he actually tries, and. “I guess I should’ve roomed with Kibummie hyung.”

Taemin’s not sure if it’s to make peace or shut him up, but he lets Jonghyun feed him again, juice exploding in his mouth, on his lips. Jonghyun’s there before Taemin can get it, tutting and dragging his thumb over Taemin’s bottom lip, warm and firm, smushing it back against his teeth.

Saying, “He says he’s done with lead roles.”

Who, Minho?

Jinki shakes his head, waves a hand. Maybe, _For now?_

Either way, Taemin doesn’t get it.

“Why? He wants to be a real actor or something?”

Wrong. The looks Jinki and Jonghyun both give him say so.

“Don’t say it like that, Taeminnie.” Jonghyun pats his knee, catches Taemin’s eye, like that’ll soften his words. “That’s the same as people saying we don’t make real music, we’re not real singers.”

Which, maybe the two of them are, and maybe Taemin counts now too, but for most of his career he wasn’t. SM debuted him without vocal lessons and gave his lines in “Replay” to Jonghyun. It took nosebleeds and blackouts and four hours of sleep a night for four years just to get them back, and it’s not like his voice is something special now. He knows how to use it, what he can and can’t do with it, and that’s all.

But okay.

Somehow when Taemin catches up Jonghyun’s all the way to, “Dahae always says the industry is the problem. They work worse hours than we do. That’s not art anymore, it’s survival.” Seriously. No actor’s ever died from it, but crew members have, and every time one of them does, Taemin’s mom calls him to check he’s okay. Like variety shows would make Shinee beat traffic to deliver the tapes to broadcasters or do stunt work or shoot without food or sleep or pay. Like SM would let them get away with that. Jonghyun pauses, turns it all over, and Taemin too. “We don’t release albums halfway through like they do with dramas, either. That’s scary.”

Yeah. If Taemin had to show Shinee World all he has so far…

He doesn’t know what kind of face he’s making until Jonghyun returns it, and then he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say.

“I mean, it’s a job, right?”

Wrong again. Jonghyun takes his eyes away, wriggles onto his side, tells him like he’s being stupid on purpose, “She could’ve done anything, Taeminnie. It’s a lot more than that.”

Taemin doesn’t know how she came up, why they’re even talking about this…but he gets that much. Jonghyun’s never met her parents, and Taemin’s never heard of them, but if they’re not chaebols they’re only a level down. Taemin’s pretty sure Jonghyun told him at one point what her dad does—something important?—and her whole family went to SNU. Her, too. And one of those times between today and tomorrow, one of those nights or mornings or whatever Taemin can’t forget, drunk off his head, snuffling into Taemin’s neck, Jonghyun told him that Dahae told him if she’s not good enough for them, then why should she care if her boyfriend is?

All Taemin’s good for is dancing. It’s all he knows, and it’s all he has, too. It was the first thing, the only thing, he knew he could do. He wouldn’t have given up his friends and moved away from home at sixteen and spent every second he’s not working practicing if he didn’t love it, but he didn’t choose this life just because he did.

SM meant money. Debuting meant his brother could go to college. Breaking into Japan meant he could move his parents into a nicer apartment and buy them a car. And going solo...

“I bought these for you, you know. How come I’m stuck eating all of them?”

When Taemin looks down at him Jonghyun’s eyes are on the TV, and there’s juice running down his own thigh. Down Jonghyun’s hand and wrist, too, thumb sunk into the flesh of the tangerine. He never lets Taemin peel or chop or open anything because he doesn’t want to clean up after him, but look at him now.

When Taemin tries stealing it away, though, Jonghyun plays nice, lets him pry his fingers away one at time, wet and sticky, then licks them clean and tries wiping Taemin’s leg off with his thumb, rubbing juice into his skin while it rains tangerine peels. If he’s waiting for Taemin to pick them out of his hair for him, too bad. He wanted Taemin to eat, so he’s eating.

“They’re fresh from Jejudo. That’s what the store said, at least.” Taemin knows what Jonghyun really means long before he comes out with it, rolling onto his back, watching Taemin instead of the TV again. “Better than ice cream, right?”

Jinki pokes Taemin in the side. He’s not even the one who said it, and he’s the one who has to say now, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t take care of your body, Taeminnie,” Jonghyun tells him. And then, smiling up at him, like it’s a completely normal thing to say, “You’re lucky you have me for that.”

Maybe Taemin’s the weird one. Maybe his face is a little hot, maybe his ears are a little more. Maybe it’s all Taemin’s fault, everything. He’s the one who didn’t say no when Jonghyun asked him if he was in the mood, he’s the one who didn’t say NO when Jonghyun asked if he wanted him to talk dirty, and he’s the one who’s sitting here now, going back there. Taking things the wrongest, weirdest way possible.

Jinki pokes him again.

“What?” Nothing, by the looks of it. “You can’t have any, Jonghyunnie hyung said.”

Jonghyun goes and makes it worse. “No soju after I leave, either.”

Jinki passes over giving Taemin a plaintive look to give Jonghyun a dirty one. _I have Minho for that._

Jejudo or no, Jonghyun should’ve brought apples or watermelon or something. But he didn’t, so Taemin takes the first excuse he’s given, winds his fingers in Jonghyun’s hair and pushes his head off his lap and ignores his unhappy noises. Gets up to bring Jinki another ice pop and takes as long as he can, standing there and freezing his face off.

Not long enough. His skin is still buzzing when he gets back to the two of them and feeds Jinki, and Crayon Pop comes on with “Uh-ee.”

The only thing left is dancing it off.

Falling into rhythm, picking up his feet, swinging his arms, shaking his hips, bobbing his head, and if he goes a little crazy, Kibum’s not here to tell him _Hey, don’t make stuff up on your own!_ Jinki jumps up in time to hit the chicken dance, going even crazier, staggering into Taemin when Jonghyun kicks at him, says, “Your butt is in my face, hyung.”

Jinki shoots him this look that says clear as day, _You didn’t say anything when it was Taeminnie’s._ Which whatever, Jinki’s said something now, but Taemin’s not about to. Jonghyun comes kicking and screaming, clamping his arms to his sides when they go for his elbows, choking and spluttering when Jinki hooks his fingers in his collar. Jonghyun gets himself onto his knees first, hugging Taemin’s legs, then climbs to his feet, up Taemin’s body, his waist, then his shoulders. By the time he reaches eye level Taemin should probably be laughing harder than him instead of freezing up, getting stuck on Jonghyun like this. Eyes crinkled up, flushed down his neck, smiles like sunshine, like sunburn on Taemin’s skin, warm and tingly.

Taemin dances harder.

 

Jonghyun sticks around long after the sun’s gone down. He helps Taemin clean out Minho and Jinki’s fridge, eating what’s safe and throwing out the rest, then makes Jinki enough porridge to last a week. Or an eternity, considering the face Jinki makes getting it down. He hates sick people food is all, it’s not like it’s bad or anything. It’s good. Taemin will probably have to take responsibility for it, unless Minho gets to it first. Or Kibum brings Jinki something better later.

When Taemin finally walks him out, it’s into the night. The air is still so heavy, but the clouds are gone and the stars are endless.

“I’ve been thinking, Taeminnie…about before.”

“I haven’t.” It’s instinct, not a reply. “I thought we were forgetting that.”

Taemin clears his throat, watches his feet, or pretends to. Jonghyun’s hands close over his shoulders, warm and firm, steering him around a puddle.

“Before, before. Your thing with SM.”

“Oh.”

Jonghyun doesn’t even know what happened yesterday. If he’d seen Taemin then, maybe Taemin wouldn’t look so cute to him, not now or ever. But it’s too much work to tell him, and no good to go back there, and it’s not up to Jonghyun to fix it. And he bought Taemin tangerines today. Taemin still has two left. One for tomorrow, after he buys ginseng tonic for Kim PD and maybe a hanwoo set for Yongdeok hyung, and one for Monday, if he survives showing his face at the studio.

He will.

He can do this.

In the meantime, Jonghyun is saying to him, “Jonginnie said you hadn’t started on your choreo yet, right?”

“If I had you’d know.”

“And the company hasn’t either, they haven’t picked anyone to work with you?” Jonghyun presses. Taemin’s still trying to figure out where he’s going with this when Jonghyun’s car, and Jonghyun turns to face him. Catches his eye. Gets to the point. “You said they keep telling you what your music is supposed to sound like, but nobody’s told you yet how it’s supposed to look.”

Taemin can read the rest of it in his face, plain as day.

 _You tell them._

“I’m a dancer, hyung, not a choreographer.” That’s that, but Jonghyun’s expression doesn’t change, and as long as he doesn’t look away, Taemin can’t either. Even if it means admitting for Jonghyun to hear, “I don’t want control if I know someone else would know better than me.”

Jonghyun doesn’t try to argue with that, just talks around Taemin. “But there has to be someone you want to work with?”

Taemin doesn’t even need to think about it.

“Tons.”

Choreographers he follows religiously on YouTube, ones behind dances from other groups he knows by heart, ones who worked with Shinee he’d like to work with again himself, backup dancers who’ve shown Taemin the craziest, coolest stuff in the practice room, and need someone to give them their start.

“Creative doesn’t know shit about dancing, Taemin-ah. You do,” Jonghyun says. When he goes on it’s almost like he’s thinking out loud for both of them, like Taemin could jump in anytime. “And sure, SM has in-house choreographers, but they wouldn’t be debuting you if they didn’t want to spend on you. Get the dance instructors on your side, you won’t even have to bribe them, you’re you, you’re their favorite.” Jonghyun squeezes Taemin’s shoulder, squeezes a smile out of him somehow. “Creative won’t have a better idea than yours, they’ll listen to you. They’ll have to. You’re the best in our company. You’re the best, period.”

“In the world, you mean~?” Whatever Taemin was supposed to say, that wasn’t it. “What, Michael Jackson’s dead.”

Or that.

“I’m serious, Taeminnie.”

It takes Taemin everything he has just to say, “I know.”

He does.

“You’ll think about it?”

He will.

Jonghyun narrows his eyes at Taemin like he’s trying to read his face, read his mind maybe, but somehow it’s too much to use words. One nod, and Jonghyun’s shoulders relax, his smile returns, and he reaches up to pet Taemin’s hair.

“No ‘thank you, hyung?’” he says, only half kidding, before he goes the rest of the way. “‘You solved all my problems?’”

“Thank you, hyung.”

Taemin’s not just saying it, but Jonghyun shoots him a look all the same, making a big show of digging in his pocket for his keys. “Forget it. It doesn’t mean anything if I ask first.”

Taemin doesn’t mind trying again. “You better not make any mistakes tonight. You never know who could be listening~”

Jonghyun gives him another look, the one that says, hyung isn’t impressed~, but what comes out of his mouth is, “You’re going to give me reviews now, too? Aigoo, I’m scared.”

“Jonghyunnie hyung.”

“What now?”

Taemin hesitates.

_Thank you for coming. Thank you for taking care of Jinki hyung, and for taking care of me. Thank you for thinking about my life harder than I do. Thank you for believing in me._

_Thank you for being here._

“Good night,” he says.

Jonghyun eyes Taemin, like he’s trying to make sure that’s it, that’s all he’s getting out of him. Taemin thinks he could do this all night, washed clean in the moonlight, breeze in his hair, Jonghyun playing with him, pulling and pushing, this close to cracking a smile.

But Jonghyun’s car is right here, and Taemin can’t make him any later, and the sun would come up anyway, so Taemin skips to the end, and leans in for a hug.

Jonghyun squeezes him tight. Smiles into his skin, and then in his ear, “Go to bed, Taeminnie. If you fall asleep on me I’ll understand,” and then Jonghyun steps back, lets Taemin see.

Taemin’s own smile lasts him all the way up the stairs, past Jinki’s room and into theirs, until finally it gets lost in Taemin’s pillow.

 

Jonghyun gave Taemin the idea, a hug and a push. Kibum’s coached him on his English. Minho’s waiting up in his room if something goes wrong right now, and if there’s a problem later convincing the company, Jinki will protect Taemin.

All Taemin has to do is take this first step.

And all he’s had to do was lie in bed and YouTube choreography videos, get up to follow along, pick his best option, his favorite. Ask the others their professional opinion, ask Jongin, ask his dance instructors and the choreographers Shinee’s worked with before, ask everyone and anyone but the people who could tell him no, shut him down before he even tries. Think, and think again, and then rethink, in the shower, on the ride to work, at lunch, so long and so much and so hard Yongdeok hyung asked him, “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? You’re not sick?”

Today he looked up the time difference between Seoul and Chicago, and tonight, a phone number. And now here he is. One a.m., phone in his hand, his career in his hands. His life.

He can do this.

Taemin makes the call. His heart beats a million times in between rings, and then there’s a click, a connection, a voice saying, “Hello?” and maybe it stops.

Breathe. Enunciate.

“Hi, may I please speak to Ian Eastwood?”

He understood himself, at least, and his voice isn’t shaking, only his hands. Okay.

“Yeah, that’s me.” Oh. _Oh._ He thought maybe a secretary or something. Taemin’s never done this before, the only calls he’s ever made were for jjajangmyun or doctor’s appointments, never business. “Can I ask who’s calling?”

Have you heard of Shinee? Have you heard of SM?

…Have you heard of kpop?

_You haven’t heard of me._

“My name is Lee Taemin.”

Until now.


	3. Chapter 3

“This Saturday?”

“Mm.”

“You don’t want to put it off until you’re less busy?”

Kibum’s sigh is like an explosion in Jonghyun’s ear.

“I said I’d have you guys over for dinner when I got a new place, and it’s been half a year already. Should I wait for the world to end?” Jonghyun only has to wait a couple more seconds for Kibum’s actual reasoning. “Woohyunnie’s not busy right now.”

“Oh.” It’s June now, right about time for Infinite to wrap up promotions for _Season 2._ “What about you, what about filming?”

“They told us we’ve got the afternoon off, which means we won’t shoot into the night.”

Jonghyun has no excuses for himself. He prerecords his weekend broadcasts and he has no way to prepare for his meeting with Creative on Monday, nothing to do but wait.

Nothing to say for himself, either, so about Kibum. “How does that work, anyway?”

Kibum thinks that’s a stupid question, Jonghyun knows it before Kibum even opens his mouth, and then it’s only to point out, extremely generously, “You were there when Taeminnie did it with Son Naeun.”

That’s not what Jonghyun meant, even. He should’ve worded it better. Maybe he would’ve, if Kibum hadn’t woken him up to have this conversation. Jonghyun made sure to check it wasn’t Dahae this time, and then double checked to make sure it wasn’t Taemin either, and if it’d been anyone but Kibum, he would’ve rolled over and stuck his head under his pillow and let it ring. So what if it’s three p.m., he’s fucking _tired._ Maybe he shouldn’t have bothered picking up the first time, maybe he could’ve slept through the sixth or seventh.

He’s still about to get his head bitten off.

“That’s Taeminnie,” Jonghyun says carefully. Taemin’s never had a boyfriend, not when he went on We Got Married, not now that he’s divorced, not ever. Kibum, on the other hand…“Woohyun’s okay seeing a married man?”

Deadly silence. Too far?

Whoops.

“Then are you okay with your girlfriend doing kiss scenes?” Kibum snaps, because yeah. Too far. Jonghyun’s not okay with her kissing other men for real, either, even it means nothing to her, but he doesn’t get a say. He’s not about to tell Kibum that, though, and he probably doesn’t need to, Minho probably already has, so he waits for him to move on first. Sure enough, so huffy Jonghyun knows just how sorry he is, Kibum goes on, “You can’t say no, hyung. Everyone that has a life right now said they could make it, so you’re stuck.” He pauses, like he’s waiting for Jonghyun to tell him if he needs to hear it. “And don’t try to piss me off to get out of it. I’ll just get pissed off.”

“Sorry, Kibum-ah. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Do you ever?” Is that goodbye? Can Jonghyun go back to sleep now? “Hyung.”

“Yeah?”

“Do me a favor.”

“Sure, what?”

The second it’s out of his mouth Jonghyun wishes he could take it back, but it’s okay, it’s Kibum. He never trolls Jonghyun like Minho and Jinki, and unlike Taemin, he never confuses asking too little with asking too much, or asking too much with asking too little. Usually he doesn’t ask at all, usually he just tells. Usually.

“It’s that awkward, you can’t just say it? It must be, if _you’re_ too embarrassed.”

“If I am it’s your fault,” Kibum retorts, but then he comes out with it. “Bring Hong Dahae-ssi.”

This time Jonghyun’s playing dumb when he says, “What?”

They all hate her. Does Kibum think Jonghyun’s somehow missed that? Does he think Dahae would?

“To the party. Please. You’re the only other one who’s dating, you’re all I’ve got. If it’s just me I can’t invite Woohyunnie without looking bad, and I don’t want to subject him to the rest of you.”

It’s not that Jonghyun doesn’t get it…okay, he does. A lot. When it’s only him and Taemin it’s quiet, but when it’s the five of them they’re like a pack of beagles, hyping each other up, no such thing as shutting up, stupid in-jokes and stupider arguments, no room for anyone from outside. But Dahae doesn’t know any of them, least of all Woohyun, and she’s never wanted to try, not even with Taemin, not even for Jonghyun’s sake. And if Jonghyun gets in the middle this time, makes nice, gets them talking, he doesn’t know who’ll try to embarrass him more, them or her. There’s no way it’d end well.

“What about Minho, can’t he find someone?” he tries.

Kibum gives him no hope. “This whole thing was his idea in the first place, to get Jinki hyung out of his room. He says he’s on the computer all day, playing StarCraft or whatever.”

Figures. Minho’s the best at trying too hard when no one ever asked him to.

“And Taeminnie?”

If those two are going together, that leaves Taemin to Jonghyun.

“What about him?” Kibum said it this time, not Jonghyun, but he’s not falling for it, either. Apparently there’s nothing to fall for, because he goes on, “He said he’d ask Jonginnie,” then pauses. Considers his own words. “Do those two count? They’re basically dating without dating.”

Except they’re not. They’re just friends. Even if they’re best friends, even if there’s nothing “just” about it. Kibum knows that as well as Jonghyun does.

Jonghyun presses the heel of his palm into his eyes, red and black and then sunlight again, brighter and harsher than before. Hesitates. “Does Jonginnie like guys?”

Jonghyun’s pretty sure Jongin’s forever solo just like Taemin, and he’s never said anything either way where Jonghyun could hear it, but then, it took Taemin five years just to tell him. Neither of them is like Kibum. He came into the training program already out, and six years into this life, everyone at SM knows he’s gay, and everyone outside it pretends not to, and Kibum is free to love his boyfriend, so long as he pretends he doesn’t. When Jonghyun got caught with Shin Sekyung, Kibum wouldn’t speak to him for a day and a half, until a fight over the remote turned into a fight over the living room and would’ve turned into a fight to the death if Taemin hadn’t come home from school right then. And then Kibum told Jonghyun, _I don’t know if you’re stupid or selfish or both but you had this coming. The rest of us fucking did not. Next time I feel like kissing my boyfriend or I don’t know, holding his fucking hand outside of a fucking hotel room, I’ll make sure to think of you._

That was four years ago now. Nothing’s changed since then for either of them, and probably nothing ever will, and anyway, Jonghyun got it wrong. The real question—the only question—is, does Jongin like Taemin? For Jonghyun, at least. That’s how it’s always worked for him.

He won’t ask Kibum, though, and he’s fine answering for Taemin. “If that counts as dating, then Taeminnie’s dating me too.”

Except he’s not. He and Taemin are just…him and Taemin. Not quite family, not quite friends, so much more than both. Back when Jonghyun was younger and a lot stupider, he thought if Taemin were a girl he’d be dating him, if only to protect Taemin from all the other men who’d chase after him. Since then Jonghyun’s gotten older, and Taemin has too. Six years into this life, falling in and out of love, getting his heart broken, breaking up, fucking up, again and again and again, he knows better. He knows himself better, enough to know he can do more for Taemin as hyung than he ever could as anyone’s boyfriend. There’s no way he’d let Taemin date someone like him. Maybe there’s no way Jonghyun could protect him, either, and Taemin’s told him now he likes other men, and if they chased after him he probably wouldn’t hate it…but he’s never been with one. He’d be alone without Jonghyun there.

And if he ever got drunk or carried away enough to tell any of this to Taemin, Taemin would probably tell him to worry about protecting himself. If he didn’t die of embarrassment first.

In the meantime, Kibum judges him for what he did say out loud. Hard. Jonghyun can practically hear him roll his eyes, and it doesn’t get under his skin at all when Kibum sighs at him, “Aigoo. From one mom to another, it’s not cute to compete with your son’s friends.” Nope. Not at all. Before Jonghyun can point out that Key eomma and Jonghyun, Number One Taemin Mom are two completely different concepts and only one of them makes Taemin full body cringe…Kibum’s over it. “But seriously, you’ll bring her? I can go ahead and tell Woohyunnie?”

Jonghyun can’t say no.

“I’ll ask her. That doesn’t mean she’ll say yes.”

When Kibum says goodbye, Jonghyun gets up. He won’t be able to sleep now, and the longer he lies here waiting the worse it’ll get. Showering and shaving gets him all the way to three forty, and revising his Blue Night script takes him to five. It was already too late to feed Taemin lunch when he finally managed to drift off, and it’s too early for dinner now. That leaves him on his own for four hours, just him and his phone.

Him and his phone and Dahae.

He last saw her three days ago. Noh Heekyung’s run into problems with SBS, so casting for her drama has ground to a halt, which means Dahae’s life has too. All Dahae can do about it is shit talk anyone and everyone involved to Jonghyun, and all Jonghyun can do for her is listen. She’s working less than him right now, even.

All the same, the days they don’t fuck from morning to night she says she’s busy. Half a year into his life with her, he’s pretty sure that’s her way of saying she needs space, not her way of telling him, _You’re so weird. You tire me out more talking to me than you do fucking me, you know that? Dating is so boring, don’t you think? I don’t want us to get boring. The longest I’ve been with a guy is like…seven, eight months? What about you? What number am I?_

Those are the things she has no problem saying out loud. If she were cheating on him, if it were serious, she’d probably come out and tell him. If Jonghyun asked her, she’d tell him she is even if she’s not, then dump him in the same breath.

And if he called her now…

She picks up on the third ring. “You have the worst timing, baby. I can’t talk right now, I’m going out in a minute.” Some other time then. “What is it? What’s so important you couldn’t text me?”

If that’s a question it didn’t sound like one. When Jonghyun asks her, it always does.

“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I wanted to hear your voice.” He doesn’t know if he wants to talk, either, but it’s his fault he couldn’t say no to Kibum. He can’t stop himself from hesitating, can’t stop his chest from tightening up, his voice coming out wrong. “I want to see you. Are you free tomorrow?”

He waits for her answer.

 

“Taemin-ah. Taemin-ah!”

Taemin’s surprised to see him. Jonghyun expected as much, but it’s always funnier seeing it, the way Taemin jumps, swings around, perfect look of shock, then relief when his eyes catch up with his ears, and he realizes who it is. It puts this smile on Jonghyun’s face, so big and stupid it hasn’t faded by the time Taemin’s said his goodbyes to the short, chubby man who followed him out of the studio, and caught up to Jonghyun on the sidewalk.

“What are you doing here?”

“You ask me that every time.” Jonghyun’s just saying. “Was that your manager?”

“Yongdeok hyung.” Taemin bumps Jonghyun’s shoulder with his. “Next time come in and say hello. If they bring Kim PD in on your album too, it’d be good to get to know him now.”

Next time.

“What do you want to eat tonight?”

Usually Taemin has to think about it, long and hard, trying to settle on just one thing, deciding if his day was stressful enough to justify cheating on his diet, but tonight all he has for Jonghyun is, “I don’t know.”

“You’re not hungry? You?" They hit a break in traffic, and Jonghyun has to wait to ask until they’ve crossed the road and turned into the SM parking lot, and he’ll be able hear Taemin’s answer again, or read it in his face. “Is something wrong?”

Taemin blinks at him. Jonghyun’s not sure what that thing on his face is supposed to be, a smile or a frown or what.

He’s still trying to figure it out when Taemin nudges him with his shoulder again, tells him, “I’m fine, hyung, just a little tired,” and then, turning his eyes to his feet, “You must be too. You look it. You didn’t have to stick around for me.”

Jonghyun hooks his arm over Taemin’s shoulders and reels him in to his side, feels for his cheek, pinching it.

“Aigoo. I came here just for you.” That doesn’t get Jonghyun as far as he wants, and they find his car before he can try again, catching Taemin’s eye over the roof instead of fishing for his keys. “I was hungry.” That’s not it, either. Taemin’s mouth doesn’t crook up and his brow furrows. “Hyung is starving, Taemin-ah. There was no one at home, you’re all I have.”

Jonghyun’s okay if Taemin likes food better than him, he’s okay if he grunts in reply to everything and hogs the banchan and eats all the money in Jonghyun’s wallet, as long as he’s there with him. It’s too lonely, eating alone.

Instead of telling Jonghyun _buy me hanwoo and we’ll talk_ or _don’t whine if I pick something spicy~_ or any of the things he’s supposed to, Taemin asks him, “You mean you just got here? You haven’t seen anyone else?” And when Jonghyun nods, “Did you lose your phone or something?”

Nope, just left the five thousand texts in his inbox for later and turned it off. If ignoring the rest of the world meant ignoring Taemin too, it’s not like Taemin can talk, and anyway, he’s never been in a relationship. He doesn’t understand how much it takes out of Jonghyun just to deal with Dahae. 

“Why, did something happen?” Jonghyun says.

Taemin hesitates, then answers him with another question. “You haven’t heard about Taeyeon noona?”

“What about her?” Two seconds into Taemin’s silence Jonghyun’s chest caves in. He doesn’t know where his own voice is coming from when he hears it say, “Did something happen to her, is she okay?”

Taemin goes still, searching his face, look on his like he’d give anything to be someone else right now.

“Nobody’s told you?” Obviously fucking not, Jonghyun just said like three fucking times. “It’s all over the company already, I head it from Jonginnie and then Soojungie too, and they probably heard it from—”

Heard WHAT already.

Next thing Jonghyun knows he’s crossed to Taemin’s side, taking ahold of his arms, staring into his face, holding his gaze, putting everything into one word, “Taemin-ah.”

Taemin stiffens, then relaxes in his grip, mouth tightening, eyes clearing.

“Dispatch has photos of her and Baekhyun hyung.”

Oh. Oh fuck. Fucking God damn it. Jonghyun _told_ her.

It takes everything he’s got to keep his voice even. “Like me and Shin Sekyung, Taeminnie?”

“Worse, probably?”

“Probably?” If Taemin can’t do better than that, Jonghyun can. “Worse how? Did they catch them making out or something?”

“They said kissing,” Taemin amends, like there are levels to these things, and saying it in English places it somewhere between bbo bbos and foreplay. “In her car.”

Jonghyun goes to squeeze Taemin’s arms and realizes too late how hard he’s holding on, fingers tight enough to bruise. If it hurt Taemin kept it off his face, didn’t let Jonghyun see, and now it’s all Jonghyun can do to release him, sagging back against the car, still sun-warm in the dying light. Taemin watches his face, like he’s trying to figure out if he’s in trouble, if he was the wrong person to tell Jonghyun after all. When Jonghyun forces a smile, all for him, Taemin doesn’t buy it, just leans himself next to Jonghyun, pressing his arm along his, lining their feet up. Their shadows, too.

When he’s got his voice back, Jonghyun says, “You haven’t seen them, though? The photos.”

Taemin shakes his head. “I don’t know if Taeyeon noona and Baekhyun hyung have, even. Last I heard the company’s trying to negotiate.”

Jonghyun looks to the sky. Tries letting everything inside him out in one long sigh.

“When’s the last time that worked?”

 

Jonghyun texts Taeyeon slumped in the driver’s seat, waiting for Taemin to tell him where to go. He doesn’t know what to say, and there’s not much he can. He adds and deletes hearts and emojis thirty thousand times, hovers over her number, but in the end all he has for her is, _if u need someone to talk to, talk to me. call me anytime noona. hang in there._

With Taeyeon, too little is always better than too much. Jonghyun knows her better than to expect a reply right now, either. Every time his phone buzzes against his thigh he knows it’s not her, and once he’s dug it out of his pocket and checked to make sure, it never is. Taemin puts up with him the first few times, then reaches over and works his hand into Jonghyun’s pocket, steals it away, tells him to watch the road, reads Jonghyun’s texts to him in stupid voices. He only gives it back at the restaurant, sliding it across the table while Jonghyun’s preoccupied with the giant bowl of naengmyun in front of him.

Which reminds him. Jonghyun sits back, lowers his chopsticks, settles his eyes on Taemin’s face. Waits for Taemin to feel them, and then waits some more, until Taemin chews off the noodles in his mouth and stores them in one bulging cheek to say, “What?”

He’s so easy. All Jonghyun has to say now is, “You tell me.”

Or not. Taemin’s only response is to make a face at Jonghyun, and then say to his food instead this time, “What?”

He’s not impossible, though, not to Jonghyun.

“Everything’s okay with you?” he presses. That gets him a nod. “Nothing happened today, all day, at all?” Taemin shakes his head. “You thought you’d get out of talking, didn’t you.”

That catches Taemin mid-slurp. He raises his eyes to Jonghyun’s, tells him through a curtain of noodles, “It’s not that,” like he really means it. The second Jonghyun’s phone buzzes Taemin’s eyes snap to it.

“My mom says we’re out of dog food.” Taemin doesn’t crack a smile. “She’d say hi if I told her I was with you. And probably a lot of other stuff.” She’d ask lot of questions, too, but Jonghyun doesn’t want Taemin to run out of answers before he gets to him. And anyway, more importantly, “I can’t do anything for noona right now, and neither can you.”

“You don’t have to do anything for me either,” Taemin replies. “Really. They yelled at me once and that was it.” Creative, he means. Taemin spent a week avoiding the subject since he couldn’t avoid Jonghyun, and then last Thursday he texted Jonghyun to tell him he’d done it. Ian Eastwood was in. And now a week after the fact, a week after he could’ve used Jonghyun, he’s okay saying some things out loud. “Honestly, if anything, it was scarier having them listen to me. You know how many people work on our comebacks. I did too, I just didn’t realize taking responsibility for myself would mean taking responsibility for them too.”

Taemin’s not saying he’d take it back, he’s just saying. Jonghyun gets it. Still…

“Creative wouldn’t have gone for it if he looked like a risk, Taeminnie. And you’ve seen what he can do, that’s why you picked him,” Jonghyun says for Taemin, and then for himself, “And I know you can do anything.” That’s that, and that makes Taemin smile, sudden, helpless, hidden behind his fist. Even if he knows Jonghyun meant it, getting Taemin to believe him would take a lot more than words, and right now words are all Jonghyun’s got, so. “When are you meeting with him? He’s American, right?”

“Yongdeok hyung was hoping we’d get to go to Chicago, but SM’s paying for him to come here sometime.”

“Sometime? Aigoo.”

Taemin never knows what’s next, just that something is. Jonghyun probably shouldn’t be sighing, shaking his head, clicking his tongue, because he’s the same, maybe worse. He never wants to know.

Taemin tries again, smile widening. “Next month sometime. Before I shoot my MV.”

“When are you done recording? Around then?”

“Mm.” Taemin pauses, falters. Jonghyun catches his eye, returns his smile with one of his own, big and stupid. Taemin fiddles with his chopsticks, bites his lip, begins, “Hyung…”

It’s nothing bad, Taemin wouldn’t have gotten that far even if it were. He only ever gets like this when Jonghyun falls short, forgets, makes him ask for something, and only if Taemin can’t wait for him to figure it out on his own.

“I said I’d have something for you a million years ago, I know,” he says, before Taemin can. It’s only a guess, but a good one. Taemin’s shoulders relax, and he nods. “I’m sorry, Taeminnie. I’ve been blocked lately. It’s not just your song, it’s everything.”

He is, and he has, but that’s no excuse when he’s had nothing but time, and the longer Jonghyun takes, the harder it’ll be on Taemin, trying to save space on his EP for “Pretty Boy.” SM will lose their patience with Jonghyun a lot quicker than Taemin ever would, and they don’t care what Taemin thinks about his image, as long as the public buys it. Jonghyun will have to submit whatever he comes up with for review, too, same as he’s always done. He can’t tell Taemin’s truth halfway, he won’t do that to him, but his words will have to be as pretty as Taemin himself, or they won’t stand a chance.

“It’s okay, hyung.” It’s not. Taemin wrinkles his nose at the look on Jonghyun’s face, reaches across the table to touch his hand, sudden and warm. “There’s a lot of time left. We’re busy with a track from the Underdogs right now, anyway. ‘Sonata.’”

They did a song for Shinee last fall that ended up on _Everybody,_ SM’s option B, Jonghyun’s baby. His lyrics, too.

“It’s a lot different from ‘Symptoms,’” Taemin goes on, like he’s read his mind. “I wasn’t that into it when we started working on it, but I really like how it’s turning out. The guide was more bitter, our version is more sweet.”

Jonghyun should probably be stuck on the part where Taemin said “our” and “we,” because that’s good, before it was always “the engineers,” “the company,” and every once in a while, never often enough, “me.” He shouldn’t be this close to smiling, laughter fluttering in his stomach. Taemin’s had a long day, and however much Jonghyun says he loves his sweet voice, the one he saves for ballads and bubblegum, Taemin always thinks Jonghyun’s fucking with him.

Jonghyun does his best to be good. “Do you have a demo on your phone?”

Taemin gives him this look like he sees right through him, but all he says is, “If you ever get up in time for lunch, come and I’ll show you.”

Jonghyun eats his noodles. Taemin does too. The ahjussi who served them comes back to refresh their water and their kimchi, and on the TV Jo Jaehyun and Yoo Donggeun keep up the hard work founding the Joseon dynasty. If Jonghyun’s voice were that cool he would’ve been an actor, like Minho. Instead he’s singer. And an idiot. And as far as Taemin’s concerned, worth ignoring. Less interesting than naengmyun. Less cute too. Less everything.

Before he drives himself crazy, Jonghyun tries, “Kibummie said you asked Jonginnie to his thing? He’s not too busy?”

Taemin takes a break from chewing to reply, “He says he is. Soojungie said she’d go instead.” And then it catches up with him little by little, shoulders tightening, eyes flitting to Jonghyun’s face, and as soon as he swallows he asks Jonghyun, “Should I ask Kwonho or someone?”

It’s a real question.

“Another guy, you mean?” That’s not a real answer, any more than telling Taemin if he has to use someone he can just use Jonghyun would be. Neither is, “You think it’s not just SNSD?” Unless there’s someone paying bigger money to make a bigger story go away, the company can always afford to pay Dispatch off. But they can afford to let SNSD date, too. They’re the nation’s girl group. It’d take more than a boyfriend to bring them down, and none of them have signed their new contracts yet, either, not Yoona or Sooyoung or Hyoyeon or Miyoung, and not Taeyeon. “They’re in their seventh year, Taeminnie.”

Shinee will be soon enough. Jonghyun’s not helping, Taemin’s face says so. He should be helping.

“I don’t know, I just don’t want to get her in trouble. F(x)’s comeback is next month.”

Instead of reminding Taemin to think of himself too, telling him he’d have it just as bad, worse maybe, Jonghyun would know, he bites his tongue. Then tries thinking out loud.

“Taeyeon noona’s a bigger fish than the others, she’s like a blue whale, and EXO’s in a bad situation already, which probably makes Baekhyunnie’s worse. The rest of us should be safe for a while. Even if they did catch someone, there’d be no room to talk about anyone besides those two.”

Jonghyun feels like shit just saying it, and maybe it was for nothing. Taemin’s not convinced, even if he’s not not convinced, either. Jonghyun doesn’t know what to do with him, how to get that worried look off his face, if there’s anything he could say right now that would.

Finally Taemin comes out with it. “You’re being careful, right, hyung?”

Oh. That’s easy.

“Mm.”

Too easy. He can’t remember the last time he and Dahae went out on a date. Taemin doesn’t ask.

“I don’t know why Kibum hyung’s being so weird about this,” he says. “We’re all fine with Woohyun hyung. Does he think we’re all jealous he’s happy or something?”

“Is dating everything?” If Jonghyun asked Taemin if he’s tired of being single, Taemin would tell Jonghyun to ask him again after promotions are over. Tonight maybe he’d say no. If Jonghyun asked Kibum whether he’d rather be a swan than a chicken, take all the stress and the pressure and every bad thing Taemin’s going through right now if it meant being Lee Sooman’s favorite…Kibum would probably tell Jonghyun he’s stressed and overworked and under pressure enough as it is, all without them coming over to eat his food and pick over his décor and torture his boyfriend. “It’s complicated, Taeminnie. It means you have to think of someone else first, it doesn’t mean you stop being yourself or living your life, same as before.”

And if you hate either, you probably still will.

“Then what about falling in love?” Taemin says. He scrunches his face up, trying to read Jonghyun’s. “Same thing?”

“You’ve never been in love? You’ve never liked someone?” Jonghyun gives Taemin a look, and when he doesn’t get one in return, it’s way too hard to keep the smirk off his face, way too easy to go on, “What about that dancer hyung, from like…Shinee World II? The one with the muscles. What was his name~”

Faster than he can think, Taemin’s there, half out of his seat, reaching across the table, hand covering Jonghyun’s mouth, telling him, “That doesn’t count.”

Jonghyun laughs into his palm, tugs at his wrist and peels his fingers away from his face, plays with them until Taemin drops back into his seat and slips his hand out of Jonghyun’s, bright red.

“Aigoo, look at you. You’re blushing.”

Taemin blushes harder, insisting, “That was different, that was stupid.”

Jonghyun thought so too, at the time. That hyung was ten years too old for Taemin and he showed his abs off more than Jonghyun did, and if Taemin only ever made fun of Jonghyun, it wasn’t only because he could get the words out without tripping over them, hurting himself. But it was only that one summer. Taemin never talked to him, and he never signed up for another tour. And now Taemin’s here with Jonghyun, denying everything, embarrassed by himself, and wherever he is, whatever he’s doing with his life, that guy’s not a hyung anymore, he’s an ahjussi. Maybe he’s married, maybe he’s a dad. Who knows.

No one does.

“You think love is smart?” Jonghyun says.

Taemin takes too much time with that one, head over his bowl, snatching glances at Jonghyun when he’s not supposed to be looking. Then finally, suddenly he asks through a mouthful of noodles, “Are you bringing Hong Dahae-ssi?”

To Kibum’s thing, he means. Jonghyun has this crazy urge to get his hands on Taemin, pinch his cheeks until he smiles or pouts or glares, makes the kind of face Jonghyun knows how to deal with, one that doesn’t sit in his chest like this.

“Is she a stranger? You can call her noona, Taemin-ah. It wouldn’t kill you.”

Maybe it would. It takes more than a few meetings for Taemin to get over his shyness, and it takes forever to get close to him. Jonghyun would know. In the beginning, all he had was what Taemin said out loud, which was nothing. Then a little. Then a little more, and a little more, until they stopped needing words. After nine years, there’s nothing he can’t say in front of Taemin, nothing he wouldn’t do for him, and he doesn’t have to ask to know Taemin is the same. 

So it’s okay if Jonghyun doesn’t ask him, just tells him, “If she turns me down, I’m stealing you.”

Except, Jonghyun’s voice wasn’t supposed to sound like that, all rushed and strange, and Taemin’s mouth wasn’t supposed to twist instead of turning up at the corners. _Why would she turn you down?_

Before Taemin can find the words on his face, Jonghyun has to get there first. Say something. Anything but that. “What? You don’t like short guys? Too bad. Jinki hyung and Minho are going together, so you’re mine~”

“Hyung…” Taemin hesitates and Jonghyun’s heart flies up his throat. “It’s better when you’re with them, right?”

Jonghyun swallows. “What is, Taeminnie?”

“You said you don’t change when you date, that nothing changes,” Taemin blurts out. “But when you’re together, you’re happy, right? And when you’re apart, shouldn’t having them make everything else easier? Like with our fans, or with my parents, or you and the other hyungs.” Taemin freezes up, chopsticks planted in his noodles, his other hand clenched around his water glass. Jonghyun’s is halfway across the table when he catches himself, and then he goes with it. Taemin starts at his touch, then smiles at him, shy and painful. “I always feel sorry my best isn’t better, but you’re the reason I keep trying. Dating isn’t like that?”

It is and it isn’t. Jonghyun doesn’t know what to tell him.

“When you’re with your parents, do you care what you look like?”

“I do with our fans, though.”

“When you’re with me, then.”

If Taemin says yes he’s lying. Jonghyun’s seen everything, and that includes the face Taemin’s making right now, narrowed eyes, tiniest smirk. “You’re always telling me I’m beautiful, even when I look like shit. Unless you’re all talk?”

Jonghyun’s not lying either when he replies, “You’re beautiful. You’re the most beautiful,” he doesn’t care if Taemin doesn’t need Jonghyun to tell him that, if he’s laughing at him inside.

That’s better than Taemin’s smile dying, his eyes lingering on Jonghyun’s face, his voice as he says, “I don’t get what you’re trying to say.”

“I’m not a man to you, I’m hyung.”

“Hyung is a man, though?”

Taemin’s not teasing him, Jonghyun knows that. Well. He’s like sixty-five percent sure. 

“You know what I mean, Taeminnie,” he says. “You want to look cool, you want to take responsibility for them, only show them the good things.”

Be a man.

“That’s so stupid, though. What if you get married? Are you just going to pretend you’re somebody you’re not your whole life?” One long moment searching Jonghyun’s face, another lost in his noodles, and then he says it, so gently it kills Jonghyun. “If they love you, don’t you think they should understand you?”

They, they, they.

_She has a name, Taeminnie. It won’t kill me if you just say it._

“I don’t want understanding, I don’t want Dahae to know what a loser I am. It’s bad enough that you do.”

Somehow Jonghyun said that out loud. Somehow Taemin takes it even worse than him, somehow he looks away first, stuffs himself instead of saying something, anything, back. Ignores Jonghyun’s eyes eating his face, his foot pushing into his under the table, every stupid thing Jonghyun says trying to fix it.

“I said something weird just now, right? I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Hyung is a weirdo, you know that.”

Taemin lays a slice of beef over Jonghyun’s noodles.

“What are you sorry for?”

Jonghyun picks up his chopsticks and eats it.

More beef. Half Taemin’s egg. Pear. Cucumber. Sweet, refreshing, so cold his lips tingle, mouth filled to bursting, it all tastes like Taemin to him.

He eats.

 

The next day Jonghyun can barely get a bite down. Dahae, either. The first time he made it for her she told him his kimchi stew beats her maid’s, but tonight is a Cheeto night. He just didn’t know until after he’d lost all the water in his body crying over onions and sweating over the stove. Maybe she didn’t either, until she took one sip, and made that face. “How much salt did you put in this?” 

So, Cheetos. Her fingers are dusted in red and so is his shirt. Her lips are flaming hot, and now his are too. Her voice is normal again when she looks up from the script she’s been snorting and sighing through and says, “Sorry, baby, who were you talking about earlier? SNSD’s Taemin?”

His should be too. “Taeyeon.”

She pushes her foot into his thigh, ever-so-slight curl to her mouth that tells him she meant it. He doesn’t bother telling her she’s not funny because she’s smart enough to know that on her own, doesn’t give her any kind of look, just keeps his eyes on the TV.

“How many scandals are they up to now?” she says.

“This one doesn’t count, not yet. It could go away still.”

Dahae frowns. Shrugs. Moves on. “It’s their careers.”

“It’s also their lives, Dahae-yah.”

“Well yeah. It’s all the same thing for you guys, isn’t it?” she replies distractedly, flipping a page. “If you don’t want to get caught, then maybe don’t? It’s that simple.”

Someone should tell her simple doesn’t mean easy. Jonghyun should tell her that it’s harder for him than it is for her, coming when she calls, keeping away when she doesn’t, sitting around like this, looking at her bathed in the glow of the television instead of moonlight. Waiting to see if she wants him here in the morning, then lying in her bed, waiting some more, for her to wake up, for this time to be over, for it to start again.

He wants to hold hands under the table, sneak skinship in movie theaters, steal good night kisses, make up excuses to meet up anywhere, anytime, say I love you whenever and wherever he feels like it. He wants to make out in his car. He can’t blame Taeyeon if she didn’t want to care. He doesn’t want to, either.

It’s useless, saying any of that out loud, so he sticks to what he knows. “I just meant these things get really bad.”

“I never said they didn’t.”

And apparently this is getting really boring for her. She needs more Cheetos to sit through it, her toes digging into his thigh say so. Jonghyun gets up to get them for her, checks the serving size he should have memorized by now, counts them out into her bowl and ignores the dishes in the sink, the smell of his mom’s kimchi in the garbage.

Edging past her back to his seat, she reaches out and pulls him in to stand over her, tiny hands at his waist, warm through his shirt. “It’s different for actors, but it’s not like I can’t get in trouble. Like, sure, I don’t go on TV to shake my ass, and I’m not my fans’ girlfriend, but they’d still go crazy if they knew I was yours. And what about you?” She lets him drop a kiss onto her lips, leans into it, _stops,_ for just those couple seconds. As he draws away, slips out of her grasp, she starts back up, “How much hate do you think I would get, if your fans knew you’re mine?”

She can ask Shin Sekyung, if she really wants to know. Jonghyun only ever saw what she let him, and only when he had time to see her at all.

“Dahae…Kibummie’s having a dinner party this weekend.”

“Okay?”

She’s looking at him again. Waiting.

“Come with me,” he makes himself say, and then the rest comes in a painful rush. “It’s a couples thing, it won’t be just the others. Be my date?”

She looks at him some more. “It’s not a work thing, though? I don’t need to be there?”

If it were SM’s party and not Kibum’s, he wouldn’t even be allowed to ask her, and she’d have nothing to say no to. Jonghyun goes back to the TV while he figures out what he’s choking on, his heart or his voice.

“You don’t want to?”

“I just think it’s nice like this.” She doesn’t sound like she does. But then she leans in against Jonghyun’s side, so much softer and warmer than her voice or her eyes on his face, and tells him, “It’s enough for me with just the two of us.” She toys with Jonghyun’s fingers, bright red nails so pretty next to his, where he’s bitten them to the quick. “It’s not for you?”

It’s so easy to tell her, “It is,” and mean it, but the rest of the truth is still there on the other side, cornering him. “It’s just…don’t you get tired of seeing me like this?”

She stills against him. That’s all the warning he gets, and then next second it’s, “Aigoo. I’m sorry I didn’t put on makeup to eat dinner with you.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” she snaps. “Maybe you could try saying it for once. Just a thought.”

Jonghyun takes a deep breath. And another, and another, until he’s okay giving up, giving in, trying to explain himself to Dahae.

“They’re like family to me,” he says, catching her eyes, holding them. Her hand, too. His breath. “I want them to get to know you like I do.”

_I want you to be a part of my life. My real one._

If that’s the truth, why does it taste like lies?

She doesn’t call him on it, doesn’t say any of the things he’s scared to hear, _your friends don’t have to be my friends, you know. I thought we were waiting to see where this goes? You’ll say you want to take me home to your mom next._

All she wants to know is, “Do you care what I want?”

Okay. It’s not about him, it’s about her. Okay. He can stop making this about him.

“I’m asking you, baby. You can say no, I won’t get mad.”

Somehow she’s smiling at him. “You sure it’s not that you want to show me off?”

It can’t hurt to smile back, and it costs him nothing to admit, “That too.”

That gets him a lapful of Dahae, warm and heavy over his thighs, her fingers trailing up and down his nape, her hair spilling into his face, blocking out the rest of the world. A smile when he combs it back for her, then her lips against his.

“You sure you wouldn’t rather keep me all to yourself?”

He can play this game. Maybe if he knew the rules he could break it.

“I’ll take you home afterwards,” he murmurs into her mouth, teasing her tongue with his, pulling away, nudging his nose against hers. “Say yes, hmm? I’ll do whatever you want, after.”

She winds her fingers in his hair. When she pulls he doesn’t test her grip, just goes with it, head hitting the back of the couch. She’s watching.

“And if I say no? You won’t put out, or something?” And now she’s laughing at him. “I don’t get why you’re making such a big deal out of this.” He doesn’t get her. “It’s a lot of work for me, you do know that, right? You want me to sit there and look pretty while you play with your friends. I won’t even know anyone, you know how much I hate that.”

“I’ll stay with you the whole time.” It’s all he can say. Or not, because, “Taeminnie will be there. You know him.”

“Has he learned how to talk since the last time I saw him, or something? Because otherwise that’s the same as being alone.”

That’s not fair.

“It took me years to get him to open up to me, it doesn’t mean he dislikes you.” Jonghyun’s not sure who he’s saying this for, himself or Taemin, just that it’d probably be better for both of them if he’d let it go. But it’s Taemin. He can’t. He won’t. “He’s shy.”

She scoffs at him, this strange halfway expression splitting her face, mouth tightening, twisting up.

“So am I,” she retorts. Which, so is Jonghyun, so are most people. But most people aren’t Taemin, every day hiding in plain sight, their whole life seen and not heard. She doesn’t give a shit, but then, why would she. “Who’s going to take care of me if you’re so busy babying him?”

So sudden he feels sick, he wants out. When he closes his fingers over her hips she doesn’t fight him, climbing to her feet in front of him, brushing her hair out of her face, giving him this look that says clear as day, _you and your fucking Taeminnie._

“Stop it,” he says stupidly, before she even starts, and then all that’s left is to get up too. “If you don’t want to go, just say that. Don’t try to make this into something else, okay?”

_Leave Taeminnie out of it._

She catches his arm on his way out of the room, swinging him back around while he’s still deciding what to do with himself, start on the dishes, make for the door, hide in the bathroom until this goes away.

“I didn’t say anything, Jonghyun-ah.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to. Really. I understand.”

“No it’s not, and no you don’t, obviously, but fine. If it’s so important to you I’ll go.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t.”

“Dahae—”

She rocks up onto her tiptoes and covers his mouth with her own, hard and lingering, and then more softly, taking him back down to earth: “You owe me.” He follows her blindly, leans in for another kiss and meets her hand instead, fingers pressed to his lips. “Seriously. This is hard for me.”

He takes her hand, brushes his lips over her knuckles, tries getting out of his head, thinking of her feelings instead of his for once. “Go on and shower. I’ll do the dishes.”

Her smile hits him like the sun, bright, dizzying, before it passes behind the clouds.

“Can you let yourself out?” she says. “I have an early day tomorrow, I have to meet with my manager. He keeps giving me shit to look at, it’s like he thinks Noh Heekyung is going to turn me down. It’s annoying.” She scrunches her nose, dark eyes lingering on his face. “Should I be annoying, too? Stalk her or something? I heard that’s what Kim Minhee did to get on _Goodbye Solo.”_

Jonghyun’s supposed to say, “You don’t need to,” so he does. What would he know?

Just that there’s no point staying when he won’t be able to sleep tonight. He never can. If he tosses and turns, plays with his phone, he can do it out on the couch or in his own bed, or not at all. But if he’s good, stays still, stays on his side of the bed, shutting his eyes on her face, it only makes them both crazy. He thinks too loud, and her silence is louder, and the sounder she sleeps, the more he wants to look. Check on her, watch her, breathe with her. Just breathe. 

He tries pouting at her, hoping he looks cuter than he feels. “Good night kiss?”

She pecks him on the lips and swats him on the ass.

“Take the trash out, too, okay? It’s starting to smell.”

 

Taeyeon calls on Friday at three a.m., just to tell Jonghyun, “It’s coming out. Tomorrow or the next day, they said.” Because, “I just thought you should know.” Jonghyun has a minute to catch up, if he needs it. He doesn’t. She does. When she goes on, asks him, “Is there anything I should know?” she sounds so close to normal it hurts his heart.

“The company can’t block it?”

Can’t, or won’t.

“I guess not~” It’s not funny, but she laughs all the same. “They gave me a lot of reasons, but I don’t know how much of it is bullshit. I never do, with them.” Jonghyun never does, either. Even if she went through all the things they told her, even if she could remember, there’s no way he could help her. “Don’t say you’re sorry, okay? Say something useful. You know what this is like, and I’d rather find out from you.”

Jonghyun just barely made it into his room in time, tripping over his mom’s shoes, stubbing his toes, banging off the wall, phone buzzing against his leg, click of his door, click of the light, click, Taeyeon. Five seconds alone with her and he already wants out.

She probably does, too. She’d probably rather die than have this conversation with anyone, and he’s all she’s got.

“Stay offline,” he says.

“What, that’s it?”

It’s good advice. It’s the best anyone ever gave Jonghyun, even if he could never follow it.

“The less you get involved the better, noona,” Jonghyun says. “Stay out of it. If you try to talk it out with your fans they’ll hate you more. They don’t want to hear your side. They don’t want there to be sides.”

“You think I do?” she snaps. Then sighs, deep and heavy, right in his ear, the kind that means _I’m sorry I suck right now._ “I’m the one who’s stuck being two different people, and neither one of them has a life, and both of them are liars.” _I’m sorry I always suck._ “I’m just, I’m so fucking lonely.”

There’s nothing Jonghyun can say to that he hasn’t said already. There’s nothing that could change anything for her, either, he knows that. She’s the same as him inside.

So he changes the subject instead. Kind of. “How’s Baekhyunnie taking it?”

“I don’t know,” she replies. “Honestly. We’ve never talked about work. I don’t want to start.”

That’s as far as Jonghyun can understand her. It kills Jonghyun to keep everything in, his thoughts, his feelings, his dreams, his secrets, his fears. It’d kill her to let anything out.

“You said you were two people. That means they’re both you. You can’t separate parts of your life like that, noona.” Jonghyun would know. He’s tried it. He’s still trying. “You don’t quit SNSD when you go on dates, and you don’t break up every time you go to work, does that make any sense? It’s the same for him.”

“You’re supposed to be helping. You’re not.”

She doesn’t want to hear it. Still, Jonghyun tries again. He can’t not. “What I mean is you’re not alone. Everything you’re going through, he’s going through too.”

“All the more reason not to put my shit on him.” She’s not arguing with him, she’s just saying. “It’s bad enough, knowing I can’t do anything for him.”

Jonghyun’s throat tightens. That’s not a her and him thing, it’s an idol thing. It’s a fact of this life, the first one Jonghyun learned. Forget romance, forget dating, just being there for someone is impossible. Taeyeon’s only calling at the end of her day because there’s never any time in the middle of it. She’s talking to him instead of sleeping, probably because she can’t.

“Take care of yourself,” Jonghyun tells her.

He knows she’s going to say, “I’m fine,” but if she’s lying, it’s only to herself. Now it’s up to him to pretend he believes her, help her believe herself. She clears her throat. “How long did you and Shin Sekyung last, anyway?”

He tries not answering. “That was years ago. What about Yoona and the rest? They’re doing fine, right?”

She doesn’t fall for it. “They’re always fine. I’m asking about you, Jonghyun-ah.”

Because he never is?

“A year?” Eight months before Dispatch outed them, four months after. She doesn’t need to know that, though, and anyway, “It was a lot of things, it wasn’t just that.”

She takes her time taking that in.

Then, out of nowhere, she says, “Are you dating anyone now?” and she leans into the question so hard she breaks it. She doesn’t need an answer, and she doesn’t wait for him to give her one either. “Sorry, I thought it would be less awkward to ask, but it came out like that.”

“It’s okay. It’s not like it’s a secret.”

He knows everyone knows, he knows what everyone says, but Dispatch doesn’t. Until they do he can shut up.

Taeyeon’s part of everyone, though, she knows too, which is probably why she’s trying so hard to fix it, turn it into a joke. Which is why she’s making it ten times worse. She sucks at this. “You just don’t want to talk to noona?”

Jonghyun doesn’t want to talk about it, period. It’s not Taeyeon, and it’s not Dahae. It’s him. 

Anyway. “Hang up on me and call Baekhyunnie.”

He says it hoping for a smile but all it gets him is a sigh.

“He’s still working. Since Yifan left it’s been crazy. They have to relearn all their choreo for their concerts.”

“Text him then.”

“I don’t want to distract him.” She says it like she’s just playing along. “You know Baekhyunnie can’t dance, he needs all the practice he can get.”

“Listen to Overdose. Look at his photocard. Look at his pictures?” Jonghyun didn’t think that one through, but now that he has… “No Instagram, noona.”

No more flirting with her boyfriend on SNS beats no more boyfriend, but it’s just one more thing, and things add up. With him and Shin Sekyung, it started small, too. No more visits to Shinee’s dorm. No more sleeping over at her apartment. No more photos together, no more couple rings or couple bracelets or couple anything, not where the fans could see. No more hiding in plain sight. Just phone calls every other night, then every other week, dates whenever they were both free, then dates whenever they weren’t tired, and then whenever, until silence was all they had left.

“If I can’t ask for understanding, should I beg for forgiveness?” They’d just hate her more. “Fast? Shave my head?” She knows it, too. She’s only laughing so she won’t cry or yell. “Do you think Baekhyunnie would still like me?” She’d have to ask him instead of Jonghyun. She’d have to talk to him, instead of Jonghyun. “I’m going crazy, Jonghyunnie. Why did I do this to myself?”

There’s no point asking Jonghyun. Even if he knew, nothing would change, not for him. He’d make all the same mistakes over again, and he’d make them with Dahae now. Maybe he has. Maybe he’ll get caught. Maybe he won’t.

All he knows is he hasn’t done anything wrong. Taeyeon, either.

_You’re not crazy, noona. It’s this life that is._

 

When Kibum gets the door, Jonghyun’s not alone, and neither is he.

“You’re late, hyung. You’re lucky Taeminnie’s later~” Minho’s eyes land on Dahae and he hitches a smile back onto his face, forcing himself, trying so hard Jonghyun dies a little inside. “Nice to see you again, Dahae-ssi.”

No Woohyun. Jonghyun should’ve known. Kibum could’ve told him.

But it’s too late, Dahae’s stuck here with the five of them now. If she feels trapped, she keeps it off her face, taking back the wine bottle she gave Jonghyun to carry, and presenting it to Kibum, who comes to life, thanking her, inviting them in. All Jonghyun has to do is follow her lead, lend her his shoulder while she toes out of her shoes, touch so light he has to see it to feel it, hand so small and pretty.

Minho peers at the bottle over Kibum’s shoulder, then up at her, eyes wide. “Whoa, Gaja Barbaresco. What vintage is this?”

Her father sent it to her when she moved into her place, so she’s had it since before she had Jonghyun. When she asked Jonghyun if it was too much she told him the answer too, that she might as well give it to someone who would drink it. 

“I would’ve paired it with your menu, but Jonghyunnie couldn’t tell me anything,” she says to Kibum now. “If it’s not right for it, maybe save it for later?”

“No, it’s fine,” Kibum says, a little too quickly, and then, a little too carefully, “It’s perfect, thank you.”

Yeah, too much. Now Kibum has 200,000 won wine and dinner for eight that probably cost half that to go with it, and no boyfriend to share either with, and if none of that’s written across his face where Dahae could see it, that says it all right there. Kibum’s poker face is his tell.

Minho sees it, too, stepping past him to usher Jonghyun and Dahae out of the entryway, saying just to say, “It’s a good thing you went for western food, Kibummie. You can’t go wrong with red wine and steak, right?”

Dahae presses her shoulder to Jonghyun’s. Catches Jonghyun’s eye. Gives him this look.

It takes him too long to get where he’s gone wrong. She has this thing about red meat. Specifically, if you asked her, people overcooking it. She says it’s a sensitivity. Normally Jonghyun doesn’t say anything, just bites his tongue and does as he’s told because it bothers him less to eat it rare than being ignored bothers her, but this time he has to.

“Do you need help with anything, Kibum-ah?”

“You’re not the first person to ask. Jinki hyung’s got it.” Kibum flashes him a smile, tight and wan. “Dinner should be in like…forty minutes? I don’t have time to do a tour right now, but later…”

And then he’s gone and it’s just the two of them and Minho, and Dahae’s eyes everywhere but Jonghyun’s face. Which, great. Jonghyun tried. There’s no telling Jinki what to do, and anyway, this isn’t Jonghyun’s place, or her night. It’s not Kibum’s, either, and it was supposed to be.

Minho catches the look on his face.

“The two of them decided Woohyunnie better not risk it,” he explains. Jonghyun doesn’t need to hear it, not after his phone call with Taeyeon. And anyway, moving on, “Taeminnie’s bringing an extra person so it evens out.”

 

“You guys are so cute together. You all look so much alike, you’re all so pretty. Idols are scary.”

It’s not the first thing Dahae’s said to the three of them, that was, _None of your hyungs could find dates but you have two? It looks like Jonghyunnie was lying to me when he said it was a couples thing~._ And it’s not the first time someone’s tried cornering them into opening their mouths to talk rather than eat, Kibum asked a minute ago, _Is it that good or were you guys all starving?_ She probably doesn’t even know how bad it sounds when she tries asking, “Who’s whose girlfriend?”

She never does.

Soojung’s the only girl, but Taemin and Jongin both look up. It’s not the first time someone’s called them one. Jonghyun used to say it to Taemin all the time, _you’re prettier than a girl,_ and if it wasn’t a joke to him, if _Taemin’s_ not a joke to him, he’s not Dahae. Jonghyun has one moment of relief she didn’t try to be funnier, ask, “’Which one’s the girl?’” like Minho just did, frowning at her from across the table. Kibum goes deadly still on Jonghyun’s other side, but Minho’s too busy making things worse to notice. “Is that what you mean?”

No, it’s not. She doesn’t even know Taemin and Kibum are gay, she doesn’t know anything. She’s just not funny.

She figures that much out, looking around at them all, and then her answer is to say, tight voice, tighter smile, “With us it’s Jonghyunnie.”

It hurts to smile, and maybe there’s no point because they’ll all know he’s faking it, but Jonghyun has to fix this. “That’s right~. When I was little I used to call my noona unnie.”

As though he didn’t say anything, Dahae goes on, laying her hand on his elbow, “He cooks and cleans and he’s the one with all the feelings.”

Keep smiling. Keep smiling.

“It’s not like that, there’s no us,” Soojung rushes to tell her, eyes stuck on Jonghyun. “I was oppa’s backup, and then Jonginnie showed up anyway.”

If it’s three of them, it’s fine, Dispatch can’t turn it into a date. That’s probably why Jongin’s here, bags under his eyes, body stiff from a long day relearning choreo. That doesn’t stop Dahae from trying, eyes drifting over Taemin and Jongin.

“So you two aren’t together?”

Taemin opens his mouth to reply, but Jonghyun’s already there. “No.”

“And you two?”

 _“No,”_ Jongin and Soojung say in unison.

“We aren’t either,” Taemin adds, waving his hand between himself and Soojung.

She doesn’t care about that, turning her smile on Jongin instead. “You’re single when you’re this good-looking? Is there something wrong with you?”

Soojung’s back to looking at Jonghyun, snatching little glances at him as she takes up her knife and fork again. All he knows is he’s grateful Taemin didn’t bring Amber or worse, Jinri, because instead of staring Dahae down, pointing out Jongin never said he was, telling her there’s something wrong with asking, Soojung cuts herself off at, “Yeah. Lots,” and leaves Jonghyun to worry about chewing his food. He can’t taste it.

As soon as Jongin can swallow he gives Dahae an explanation, like that’s what she’s looking for. “Taeminnie and I have been friends since we were fourteen, Soojungie and I got close a little later, and then they got closer through me.”

That’s one way of putting it. The way Jonghyun remembers, the way Taemin told it, first Jongin was his rival, and then his dongsaeng because Taemin’s never been able to hate anyone, and then finally his friend, because Taemin could barely take care of himself.

“Huh. I finished with my high school friends once I grew up. Or more like, I outgrew them? But I guess it’s different when you go straight into working. Jonghyunnie keeps saying you guys are like a family.”

“Sure, we didn’t get to pick each other.” Kibum cracks a smile. “Suffering together is how you make memories, but when you’re going through it it’s just suffering. A lot of groups hate each other, honestly. Woohyunnie says—”

“I’m sorry, who?”

“His boyfriend,” Minho says loud and clear, entirely for Dahae’s benefit. Maybe for Kibum’s too, from the look on Kibum’s face, his shoulder relaxing into Jonghyun’s. “But we don’t need to talk about Infinite when we can talk about Shinee~. Kibummie hated me at first.”

“Are you going to pretend it was one-sided? When I heard we were debuting together I thought it was you or me, one of us would have to be the outcast. Then we moved into the dorm together and those two hyungs were even more annoying than you, and we had to think of the child.”

“Uh huh,” Taemin says, “Key eomma~”

“Sorry, did I say child? I meant brat.”

Jinki snorts into his food, but he can’t say what he really thinks, so Jonghyun has to. “Like you and Minho did anything good. You know how much stress you gave me and Jinki hyung?” But anyway, it’s 2014, not 2008, and Dahae can’t go back that far with him. “As you can see, nothing’s changed. Shinee levels up, but we just get older.”

“And you’re just old,” Kibum says.

It’s not that funny, but it sets Minho off, that crazy high-pitched cackle of his that has Taemin smiling too hard to chew and Dahae smirking into her napkin and Jonghyun unsure where to put his eyes, where his steak is going with his stomach clenching like this. Dahae’s isn’t going anywhere, pushed around on her plate, world’s tiniest bites. It’s not red. It’s not even pink.

Her voice is neutral, though. “What about the rest of you?”

Except she’s asking Jinki, eyeing him over her wine glass. Jonghyun told her days ago Jinki can’t talk, and he reminded her while she was doing her makeup, on the ride over, in the elevator, but he forgot she might forget which one he is.

Jinki bumps Taemin’s shoulder with his own, prompting him to say half in Korean, half in Steak, cheeks bulging, “Hyung was close with me.”

Dahae wrinkles her nose at him. She can’t help it, in her house table manners were a religion, and she looks a lot cuter than she should, but so did Taemin.

“Taeminnie’s voice kept breaking, so he had to audit his vocal lessons. Jinki hyung taught him a lot on the side,” Jonghyun says quickly, reaching across the table to wipe Taemin’s mouth, wipe that look off his face. “I would’ve too, if someone had asked.”

Taemin smiles under Jonghyun’s thumb.

“Aigoo, like she cares about that,” Kibum says. He peers at Dahae across Jonghyun. “You just want to know about hyung, right?”

She doesn’t ask. “He tells me things.”

Minho’s not going there either, stopping short at, “Uh huh,” halfway between smiling and frowning, probably halfway between all the things he could say to embarrass Jonghyun and the things Dahae’s said to embarrass him already. 

Jinki, though. This time he digs his elbow into Taemin’s side and gets out of him, “Jonghyunnie hyung took good care of me.”

Minho snorts. “Took?”

“Was he the only one?” Kibum piles on. “You can’t survive on your own, Taemin-ah. Don’t give me that look, just ask Jinki hyung.”

Jinki smiles at Taemin, no mercy. Taemin appeals to Jongin next, catching his eye over Soojung’s head, but he’s no help, he’s too busy laughing at him. Taemin’s lucky Jonghyun’s here to save him, say, “You just let us think that, right~? You put up with a lot, Taemin-ah. It’s only because you’re so cute.”

“Aigoo,” Kibum sighs. When Taemin rewards Jonghyun with a smile it’s too much for Jonghyun to hide his own, no matter how hard Kibum judges him. “Aigoo, aigoo, aigoo. This is why he doesn’t listen to the rest of us.”

“Jonghyunnie spoils me too. That’s just how he is,” Dahae cuts in. Her foot rubs up against Jonghyun’s under the table, and when she goes for her napkin her hand lands in Jonghyun’s lap instead, fingers splayed across his thigh. “I wouldn’t call myself spoiled, though? Like, that’s not how _I_ am. There’s a difference.”

If she’s saying Taemin is—

“He’s too nice for his own good. We lived in the same neighborhood so we rode the same bus. He used to walk me the rest of the way home too, every day after practice,” Taemin says to her, like she’s still talking about Jonghyun, like she’d want to hear it. “At first he’d ask to come in to use the bathroom, and then it was to say hi to my mom, and then she’d ask him if he’d eaten, and pretty soon it was too late for him to go home, he had to stay over.” When his smile grows too big, he turns it on Jonghyun again. “It took me forever to realize. You were afraid of the dark, right~?”

Jonghyun’s face heats.

“Look who’s talking. Anytime we had to go on variety you were too scared to sleep. I had to hold you all night.”

Dahae squeezes his thigh and Taemin squeezes his stomach, making the dumbest face at him. Jonghyun doesn’t need him to say out loud, “Who was the one who freaked out whenever we spent the night in the practice room~?”

But he does, and now it’s up to Jonghyun to do something about it. Except Taemin’s all the way over there, with Kibum’s table set between them, pretty dishes, prettier tablecloth, and Kibum’s temper probably hanging in the balance, and Jonghyun’s laughter is too big for his stomach, coming up strange and breathless.

More wine.

Jongin fills his silence anyway. “You’re the only one who didn’t, Taemin-ah. You’re the weird one.”

But now Kibum’s off, too. “Remember when Jinki hyung saw a ghost in the elevator at our first dorm? Well. Said he did.”

“That happened right when I started working out,” Jonghyun says, heading Kibum off, “taking the stairs was a fitness thing.”

Minho laughs out loud.

“You had to sleep with the lights on after I showed you _Memories of Murder,_ hyung.”

So? It’s not a horror movie, but its ending is scarier than one, especially when you have Minho to tell you that sometime, somewhere Song Kangho’s probably stared into the eyes of the real killer. Jonghyun’s not embarrassed. He’s not on fire, his eyes aren’t lingering on the curl of Dahae’s lips, he can’t feel hers on his skin. He’s okay.

“Oh!” For a second Taemin gets stuck on Jonghyun’s face, no clue what got him there, “memories” or “murder” or, “Hyung was in love with Son Yejin.” Huh? Oh. Movies. “He made me watch _White Night_ with him like six times.”

Taemin’s blind to the look Jonghyun gives him, and saying, “She’s a good actress, Taeminnie,” just makes Jonghyun look stupid.

“She’s also a lesbian,” Dahae snaps.

Minho frowns at her again, opens his mouth again, probably about to make things worse, again, but Taemin’s too far gone, and beats him to it. “That’s what you said about Shin Sekyung at first too, hyung. You respected her acting skills~”

Silence. Then, with forced patience, “What did he say about me?”

Taemin freezes.

“It’s okay, don’t lie for him,” Dahae tells him, before Jonghyun can tell her that was four years ago. She smiles. Fakes it, the way she does whenever Jonghyun ignores her or disagrees with her or embarrasses her. “To be honest, I didn’t even know who you guys were when they told me I was doing a CF with you. I must’ve been in college when you debuted, I was too old already. And too busy.” Taemin’s still trying to figure out what he’s supposed to say to that, if it’s okay to say _Nothing,_ ignoring every face Jonghyun makes to rescue him, shut him up, when she takes him back around. “You said he lived close by. Did you know Jonghyunnie before you trained together?”

Taemin shakes his head. “After.”

“Had he already dropped out of school by then?”

“I met Taeminnie when I was sixteen, I told you, remember? I didn’t drop out until—”

“He didn’t.” Minho. Great. “He went to music school instead.”

Minho always gets so weird about this, way weirder than Jonghyun ever asked him to. Well, not always. Ever since Jonghyun showed up for Minho’s high school graduation and told Minho he was proud of him and maybe cried his eyes out. And now Dahae’s gone tense against Jonghyun’s side and his head is spinning and his heart might give out, and all he can get down is his wine, and he has to say something. Anything. It has to be him.

Or not. Dahae takes her knife to her steak and says normally to Minho, “I would’ve been great at music if I hadn’t been forced to do it. My mom made me take piano lessons from the time I was like five.”

Jonghyun doesn’t even think before he says, “Taeminnie started at thirteen,” and if Dahae’s eyes fall on Taemin’s face, narrow, annoyed, that’s because Jonghyun put them there.

“I just kind of picked it up,” Taemin says, looking to Jonghyun instead. “I’m still learning.”

“I’m not. I hated it. It was only for my college app. If I’d been allowed to go to SeoulArts instead of SNU, maybe,” Dahae says carelessly. She gives smiling a try, stroking Jonghyun’s hair back from his face, settling her hand on his nape, warm and firm, pushing him to the edge. “Still, my parents managed to grind good taste into me. Jonghyunnie keeps trying to get me into pop, but it’s hard for me to just enjoy music, you know? My brain won’t shut up.”

Jonghyun dies inside. His body goes on without him somehow, chewing, smiling through it. He can’t tell if it’s only him, if everyone else is fine, if they just look it. He doesn’t know why this hurts so much. He doesn’t know why he can’t just tell her, _You didn’t even know who Yoo Jaeha was until I showed you his music. Now you play Because I Love You when it rains. You said it makes you think of me. Does it?_

_Do you? Ever?_

Something pushes into Jonghyun’s foot under the table. Taemin’s.

Taemin.

When Taemin reaches over to fork the rest of Jonghyun’s steak onto his plate, he doesn’t say anything when Jonghyun gives him his potatoes, too. Just digs in, eating and eating, humming to himself like it hits that spot that only Taemin has. It doesn’t turn to sawdust on his tongue or go down like a rock, and when he checks on Jonghyun, catches Jonghyun checking on him, all he has for Jonghyun is a smile.

He’s okay. It’s okay if Jonghyun is, too.

From a million miles off Kibum asks, “What do you listen to?”

“Lately, a lot of Tchaikovsky?” Dahae sips her wine. “I sound like an ahjumma, right?”

Jonghyun doesn’t know how much it costs Soojung to shake her head instead of rolling her eyes, but all she says is, “Jonginnie loves him. He did ballet before.”

“I did too, as a kid. Then it got in the way of hakwon. What about you, why did you quit and join SM?”

Before Jongin can give her the answer everyone but her knows, the answer she’ll never know, _money,_ Soojung says loudly, “Ugh, this is so good, oppa.”

“But you’re on a diet,” Kibum guesses. “It’s okay, Jinki hyung’s the one who cooked it. He can’t yell at you.”

Like he would. When he glares at Soojung she laughs. She’s supposed to.

“I’m on one too,” Jongin admits. “Taeminnie’s supposed to be~”

Taemin doesn’t look up from Jonghyun’s steak, but he passes Soojung’s to Jinki instead of taking it for himself. Then leaves Jongin to choose between getting fat or wasting perfectly good food. Like that is a choice, even.

“That makes four of us.” Dahae’s lying. Jonghyun doesn’t know if that’s more than she’s ever done for him, or less. Which, she’s just being polite, and he’s just being stupid. “I don’t have a boyfriend to save me from myself, either, he eats less than I do. Any takers?”

She’s looking at Jongin again.

“Would you like more wine?” Kibum says, face blank.

She would. Jonghyun, too.

Her hand is on his leg again. “You should stop, baby.” He tries to be grateful it’s not over his glass. “Unless you want me to drive, too?”

Jonghyun drinks.

 

And then some more.

“This was supposed to be my day off. No radio, no Jonghyun-ssi.”

Heeyeon’s talking to the table, not Jonghyun. Jonghyun’s talking to himself.

“Heeyeon-ssi sees me as a man, right?”

Or not.

“Right.”

“Not like that, though.”

“Not like that.”

“That’s what Taeminnie said. Hyung is a man.”

Not to Dahae.

Not going back there. He can’t go back in time, so he came here to lose it. But three bottles in…four? all that’s left is tomorrow. His head is going to hurt and he might throw up and there’s nothing he can do about it. His heart hurts right now. What is he supposed to do about that.

Just him and Heeyeon and soju. Him and Heeyeon and soju, the summer too close and the moon too far. And Taemin. Somewhere away from all this, blinds drawn, AC on, sleeping alone in their room maybe. Maybe he made it home. Who knows. Jonghyun never does.

Heeyeon’s sigh hits Jonghyun’s face. “What did Hong Dahae say this time?”

“Nothing.” She’s not the problem. It’s not her fault if he is. “I’m nothing to her.”

Heeyeon goes for the soju.

“What is she to you then?” Everything. Nothing. Everything. “Aigoo. What’s wrong with our Jonghyunnie? Dump her. Forget her. Noona will take responsibility for you.”

Now she’s being stupid. He wishes Dahae were stupider, as stupid as him. “I can’t marry, not you or anyone. I can’t date or they’ll kill me. Noona either.”

“Too bad.”

“Not you, Taeyeon noona.” She got herself in trouble. SM won’t get her out. It was her life when she kissed Baekhyun in her car that one time. It’s her life now too, when fans show up on her SNS to tell her she’s a slut and a bitch and a thief and a liar, same as Shin Sekyung. Baekhyun oppa’s just that last thing. Just a liar, same as Jonghyun oppa. Jonghyun still is. “Is dating a crime?”

Bleary-eyed, red-faced, swaying, Heeyeon still sees everything. She always does.

“Only if you’re happy,” she tells Jonghyun.

She knows he’s not.

He does too.

“Her parents didn’t cut her off, she cut them off. Dahae. If I broke up with her would she hate me? I don’t want to be friends.”

Jonghyun couldn’t take that, he never can. It’s like she said, he has all the feelings. Like right now.

“Jonghyun-ah.”

What now?

“If you have to ask, ask. If you don’t, don’t. If you’re a man, you’re a man.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Whatever it means to you. Not what they say.” She’s so frustrating. “Don’t let anyone else tell you how you’re supposed to be. If they do don’t listen, they don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about.”

So fucking frustrating.

“Do you?” Jonghyun says.

“How would I?” Is that a reply or a retort? Neither? “Men get to tell you if you count as a woman or not, don’t you know that? I’m not a man so I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. Shit.”

“You’re a woman. Noona is a woman.”

When she drops her head onto the table Jonghyun’s world shakes. “You’re a good kid, Jonghyunnie. You’re cute. Inside and out, you’re good.”

He doesn’t want to be good or cute or good. And how can he be, when things like Taemin exist. Angel. Fairy prince. Pretty boy. Sang namja.

“I’m not listening.” All Heeyeon has for him is more soju, sloshing over his hands, burning his throat, so all Jonghyun has to say is, “I hate you.”

She beams. “I hate you more.”

She doesn’t mean it. They do, though.

“They all hate her, even Taeminnie hates her. No one loves her. I’m the only one. I don’t even know if I do.” Jonghyun’s chest is so tight there’s no room to breathe, just this feeling. “I’m trying.”

Just this feeling.

Heeyeon sighs again. “Start with loving yourself.”

“Would she love me if I did?” A million stars in the sky, and suddenly this is the most important thing in the universe. “Taeminnie said I have to be myself or it doesn’t count.”

Heeyeon doesn’t have the answer. Neither does soju.

“Noona-yah. Nooona~!”

Soju-yah.

“What are you asking me for? Go ask Taeminnie, he knows everything.”

Should he~? She’s back talking to the table, maybe she’s done talking to him. Taemin never ignores Jonghyun.

Should he?

Taemin picks up on Jonghyun’s second try.

“Okay, I’m coming,” he mumbles. “Just tell me where you’re calling from. Please. Thank you.”

“Taemin-ah.”

Silence.

“Hyung?” That’s a question. Why is that a question. “Is that you?”

He keeps asking.

“Who else would it be? It’s my phone,” Jonghyun points out. “My number.”

Taemin sighs in his ear, soft and sleepy.

“You’re drunk.”

“Yeah.”

Taemin hesitates. “How drunk?”

“I don’t know.”

Another sigh, then a creak, rustling, out of bed, lights on, clothes on?

“How many bottles?”

“I don’t know.” How is Jonghyun supposed to when, “Heeyeon-ssi had some.”

“Where are you?”

Every question Taemin asks gets harder. It feels like a test, but Jonghyun knows he can’t fail.

“Street stall.”

“Street stall, where?” Taemin presses him. “If you don’t know put the owner on, okay?”

And give Taemin to someone else? Jonghyun would rather…anything. He doesn’t want to be alone, that’s why he called, why else would he be calling. 

“Outside MBC.”

“Why did you guys go back there? You didn’t even have work tonight.”

Click. Slam. Open and shut, into the night. Under the same sky. Under the same moon. Right here, in his chest. This FEELING.

“Every day is work for me. I’m trying so hard, Taemin-ah.”

Taemin stops. Everything stops. Then…

“Hyung, are you crying?”

Jonghyun doesn’t know.

“Hold it in till I get there.”

How is Jonghyun supposed to, when he says it in that voice. Taemin is impossible. Jonghyun is too. He can’t do this anymore.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“It’s okay if you’re not. I didn’t mean it like that,” Taemin says. “Just…it’s worse if you’re alone. Some people make themselves sick, you make yourself sad.”

“You make me happy.” Jonghyun can’t hear Taemin’s breathing no matter how hard he listens. He has to ask. “You know I love you, right?”

“If you did you wouldn’t do this to me. I have work tomorrow. I was asleep.”

Taemin’s joking. This isn’t a joke. Jonghyun’s not a joke.

“You do things to me and you love me. I love you. It counts. I count.”

There. Taemin’s smile, in his voice, in Jonghyun’s ear, “Yes, you count.”

Not there. Not _here._

“Taemin-ah.”

“Hyung~. I have to hang up, I have to drive.”

Jonghyun knows that. It’s just…

“I’m sorry she was so mean to you. That’s the same as me being mean to you. Hyung is sorry.”

It’s out there, out of his body, out of his heart, so why is he still so sorry? He’s the worst.

_Jonghyun hyung is the best~!_

But Taemin’s not in his head, he’s in his ear, and he’s telling Jonghyun, “Just be nice to me when you wake up. You’re going to hate yourself, but don’t hate me.”

Yeah, not in Jonghyun’s head. There’s a lot Taemin doesn’t know, like there’s no going to, Jonghyun hates himself right now, and there’s no hating Taemin. And there’s a lot more Jonghyun wants to tell him. Like his face is wet. Like “Hurry up.” Like “Taemin-ah.”

“What now?”

_Taemin-ah._

 

Jonghyun wakes up in the light.

It fries his brain and burns his eyelids red and carpets his tongue and sticks to his skin, fucking sun, fucking summer, fucking sojuuuu. Jonghyun hides in his pillow and plays dead but nothing goes away, and nothing gets better. It’s only going to get worse, it only ever gets worse. If Taemin doesn’t think so that’s because he’s not thinking, grunting, humming, snuggling closer.

Taemin.

All Jonghyun has to do is crack his eyes open, and he’s the first thing he sees. The only thing. Arm slung over Jonghyun’s shoulders, leg across the back of his knees, heavy with sleep, trapping Jonghyun as he turns onto his side. Taemin’s breath stinks and his hair is in his face, like silk under Jonghyun’s fingers, just long enough to tuck behind his ear. It looks like he slept in yesterday’s clothes and got dressed in the dark, shirt inside out and backwards, twisted under his body. He’s lucky he has Jonghyun to fix that last thing, tugging it down instead of pinching his soft stomach, tickling up his side. He’s lucky he’s so cute. He’s so pretty Jonghyun could die. He’s so warm Jonghyun might.

It’s too hot. Jonghyun needs to pee. He needs water. He needs hangover medicine. He needs to stop drinking. He needs to stop doing this to himself, and he needs to stop doing this to Taemin.

Next time he’ll believe Dahae when she says something’s too hard for her. Next time he’ll say something to her when she says those things to him. Next time she’ll pick up before anyone tries Taemin. Next time Jonghyun won’t try him first. Next time.

But just this one time. Just this once. 

Lying in Taemin’s arms, staring into his face, it feels like forever.

_What time do you have to get up, Taemin-ah? How long do I have?_

Taemin stares right back.

Their eyes meet, just for a second, and then Jonghyun’s squeezed his shut, heart beating like crazy, so fast, so loud it’ll give him away.

Too late.

First Taemin’s arm lifts away, muffling his groan, rubbing his eyes the rest of the way open, and then he remembers the clock exists and forgets all about Jonghyun, sitting up, muttering, “Shit.”

Jonghyun grabs Taemin’s wrist on his way up. There’s no part of him that doesn’t want to pull Taemin back down next to him, and it takes all he has to lay there and keep his eyes on Taemin’s face and everything else to himself.

“Eat and then go,” Jonghyun says. “Hyung will buy you food.”

 

Taemin says yes. Like he would say no. Once he’s showered and dressed he takes Jonghyun to eat hangover soup at the place down the street from their dorm. It’s too expensive, the way everything in this neighborhood is, but Taemin’s time is money, and Jonghyun doesn’t mind paying. It takes Taemin forever to stop checking on Jonghyun to make sure he’s getting it down, but all Jonghyun has to do is wait him out. The soup tastes better than Jonghyun looks, and Taemin’s stomach is growling at him, Jonghyun can hear it from over here. He’s lucky he has Jonghyun to feed him.

“Do you need a ride to work?” he says after a while. “I have to go in anyway.”

Taemin starts, then stares.

“Your meeting’s today?” Oh. Yeah. Taemin drops his spoon onto the table with a plunk, scrubbing his hands over his face, knotting his fingers in his hair. “Hyuuuung. What time?”

It’s too late to tell Taemin he’s sorry and it’s Jonghyun’s life anyway, so he sticks with the facts. “Five.”

“Go back to bed.” It sounds less like a suggestion than an order, and Taemin’s face tells him it’s something in between, wide eyes, tight almost-smile. “Sleep it off. You have time.”

Jonghyun bites back his own smile, laughter fluttering in his stomach, making him sicker, lighter than air.

“I’ll take some medicine,” Jonghyun offers. Not good enough. The truth is always better. “I want to do some writing. I think I can get somewhere.” On “Pretty Boy.” Taemin is a different story, head down, maybe in the clouds, spoon on automatic. Jonghyun finds his foot under the table with his own. “Is that okay with you, do I have your permission~?”

Aha. Eye contact.

“Mm.”

And there’s Taemin’s smile. Jonghyun’s, too.

“I don’t know when I’ll get out. Before you, probably? I can take you home.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know. I want to.”

“If your thing goes badly—”

Somehow Jonghyun says it out loud. “That’s why, Taeminnie.”

For the longest moment Taemin hesitates, eyeing him, probably trying to read him. Then he nods. Just one nod, and everything inside Jonghyun slows down, his head, his heart, his everything. Even if it does go badly, even if he doesn’t get his way, even if Creative shits on him, laughs him out of the room, snaps him into little pieces, it won’t be the end, and he won’t be alone. He has Taemin waiting.

And right now. 

“Hyung.”

“Yeah?”

He has him right now.

“It’s just one meeting, it’s just the beginning. I had to go to a million,” Taemin says in a rush. “It might take a while to get them to listen to you, but don’t give up. You can do it.”

Jonghyun can try.

“Don’t give up on yourself. That’s what you told me, those are your words. You have to listen.”

Jonghyun’s listening.

“I won’t say good luck. You don’t need it.”

_I need you._

“Hyung.”

“Eat, Taeminnie.”

“I’m moving back into the dorm,” Taemin says to his soup. And then, in a rush, “Just until this is over. I keep leaving my shit here and then looking for it at home, and Yongdeok hyung keeps forgetting where he left me, and my mom keeps waiting up.” He raises his eyes to Jonghyun’s face finally, shy, painful, like he doesn’t know exactly what he’ll find there. “You told me to tell you if I did. I’m telling you.”

Does Taemin think he’s alone?

“Bring some of your mom’s kkakdugi with you, I haven’t had it in forever,” Jonghyun says. “Is there anything my mom makes that you want?”

Taemin doesn’t have to think about it, mouth curving around his spoon. Jonghyun doesn’t have to either, he didn’t have to ask even. “Jangjorim.”

“Aigoo. It’s not enough that hyung buys you meat, now you’re hitting up my mom? Eat what I bought you first.” Jonghyun raps Taemin’s forehead with his spoon, just hard enough to make him laugh. His conscience has him rubbing it better in five seconds and Taemin laughing even harder, pink cheeks, eye smiles, bright and happy. “You’ve seen Minho and Jinki hyung’s fridge, you can’t survive like that. We’ll have to go shopping.”

Taemin has him, too. Always.


	4. Chapter 4

Sideways. Forward. Hop. Spin. Arms out, feet together, bring it in.

Again.

Or not, because when he goes to turn the music back on, one of the backup dancers heads him off. “Lunch break, Taemin-ah. Come on.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” She flicks her hair out of her face, not bothering to hide her smile. “That’s it? You’re actually going take it?”

It’s not like Taemin’s ever asked any of them to spend it in the practice room with him instead of going down to the cafeteria or the udon place down the street, but two can play this game. “If you want to go again I’ll stay back with you, noona~”

“Aigoo.”

Once she’s pinched his cheek she’s gone, along with the rest of them. A week and a half ago they were strangers, but that’s all the time it takes to get close when you’re sweating it out on the dance floor, trapped within the same four walls ten hours a day. Taemin wasn’t even supposed to meet with Ian Eastwood until the end of the month, but that was before SM moved up his MV and shipped Taemin off to LA, halfway point between Chicago and Seoul. And now they’re halfway through filming already. Taemin convinced them to save all the hardest hitting parts for last, so here he is, album still in pieces across the street, choreo just barely coming together, with no one to tell him why.

Soojung probably came the closest two weeks ago, on another smoke break that was supposed to be a lunch break. _I told you about Jinri’s boyfriend, right? The rapper? He lost his wallet and someone found it._ And when Taemin said, _Good?_ she said, _Um, spoiler alert, he kept pictures of her in it. They posted them online and now everything’s crazy, our comeback might get pushed back. You’re so dumb, you should keep up with this stuff._ And when Taemin got stuck trying to find a way things could be worse, _Stay single or you’re dead, oppa. You lose shit all the time._

Just for today, Taemin leaves “Danger” and goes to find Yongdeok hyung instead. It takes him too long just to find him dozed off in the presentation room down the hall, stretched out across three chairs with his hoodie thrown over his face, and then a little longer to shake him instead of scaring him awake.

And then all Yongdeok does is groan, squinting up at him, “Is it lunch time or the end of the world?”

“Do you remember where I put my phone?”

It’s always quicker to ask him first in the end. That way if Yongdeok tells him to check his locker, Taemin can ask him what his combo was, and there’s always the chance Taemin handed it off to him earlier, before he woke up the rest of the way, and Yongdeok might say, “You said this would happen when you gave it to me.”

Taemin’s fine being judged, plucking it out of Yongdeok hyung’s hand, turning it on when it doesn’t wake up, waiting, waiting, waiting. And for what? Jonghyun was asleep when Taemin left this morning, and he’s probably still asleep, and it’s okay if Taemin doesn’t answer now, if it’s that important Jonghyun can say it to his face tonight.

Ten unread messages. Four from Jonghyun.

“Did you want to eat together? Taeminnie?”

Taemin puts his phone away without opening them. “Go home or go out, hyung. It’s okay. I won’t be done until tonight and I’m not going anywhere.” When Yongdeok hyung looks like he’s thinking about protesting, telling Taemin he’s too skinny, Taemin says, “Eat something yummy and think of me. If I go with you now I’ll just get fat with Jonghyunnie hyung tonight.”

Jonghyun comes to get him every night now, ever since that night he told Taemin over a bowl of jjamppong instead of a bottle of soju, fresh out of his meeting with SM, “They said they’d get back to me by next month. I don’t know if that means another meeting or what, I don’t know if that’s bad or good or what. I don’t know anything.”

Taemin knows him.

He knows when he checks his phone it’ll say, _What do you feel like eating tonight?_ and he knows when SM calls Jonghyun it won’t be as easy as, _It’s your album, do whatever you want._ But he never remembers to ask first, and he never knows what to say, how to put it into words.

_Whatever you want. I’m fine with anything, if it’s with you._

 

Taemin buys himself lunch from the vending machines on the third floor and then heads up to the roof, phone so light in one pocket, cigarettes burning a hole in the other. He went to work in the dark and there are no windows in the practice room, but now he walks straight into the sun, so bright it blinds him. It’s only when he can see again that he realizes he’s not alone.

“Noona?”

Taeyeon starts, so badly Taemin freezes up, gets his first good look at her face, and everything stops. Too late, she dashes her knuckles across her eyes, rubbing her tears away, but then she pats the spot next to her. Taemin ignores everything inside him that was telling him a second ago to look away, go away, and sits down instead. And that’s it for a while. She doesn’t want any of his pop, but she takes a Pepero stick. He drinks and eats and lets his sweat dry, feels the sun on his face while he waits for the caffeine and sugar to hit his body.

Finally she asks, “What about you, what’d you come up here for? Crying, yelling, or smoking?”

To check his phone? That sounds way too stupid, though, so Taemin goes with that last thing. “I’m trying to quit.”

She nods. Eyes him.

“So you don’t have any cigarettes?” All Taemin has to do is dig in his pockets and she smiles, and not say anything when her laugh comes up like a sob, and she says, “I’m kidding, Taemin-ah.” She narrows her eyes at him. “You weren’t about quitting, right?”

It’s nothing to kid about, but she wouldn’t know that apparently.

“It’d be one thing if it were just bad for me, but it’s bad for my voice.”

As soon as he hears that out loud he wants to take it back, but she’s not Jonghyun, she doesn’t fix him with that look, say, _You’re more important than your job,_ or _It’s your body, not SM’s, Taemin-ah._

Instead she tells Taemin, “Sometimes it’s good to be bad, as long as you don’t go too far. Take care of yourself. No one else will.” Then she smiles again, so real it hurts, like she’s read his mind, like she’s thinking of Jonghyun too. “I take that back. I forgot who I was talking to for a minute there~”

Was she talking to herself, then?

…Was she?

Taemin’s not Jonghyun, or Baekhyun even, so all he can think to say is, “Hang in there, noona.”

For the longest time Taeyeon just looks at him. Taemin doesn’t know what she sees, doesn’t know if he wants to either, because somehow he put that expression on her face, and he’s the last person who could get it off. Even if she’s up to talking, he never is.

“You ever wish you and Jinki could switch places?” she says finally. Whatever Taemin was expecting out of her, that wasn’t it. “Whenever I fuck up I’m never the only one to get hurt. Sometimes I think it’d be nice to be the maknae.”

Sure, if you’re allowed to fuck up at all. If you aren’t surrounded by people who know better, who’ve been around longer, seen more, been through more, who won’t leave you to learn things the hard way or let you take responsibility for yourself.

“You get too used to other people doing everything,” Taemin says.

Taeyeon reaches up to pet his hair, hesitant, awkward, hand so small compared to what he’s used to. “You’re doing fine on your own, though? I guess you’re my sunbae now~”

Yeah. Now Taemin gets to learn how much he doesn’t know, and if it’s lonely, if it’s scary, if it’s too much, too bad. All the same, looking at Taeyeon right now is scarier. Taemin was still in school when Jonghyun went through the things she’s going through right now, and back then Jonghyun never cried in front of him if he could help it at all. He still doesn’t, now that he’s with Dahae. He just can’t help it.

“Are you going to go solo, noona?” Taemin says, sticking to what he knows. Even if he could get her to talk to him she might tell him the same thing Soojung did. _Stay forever solo, Taemin-ah._

“Who knows,” is as much of a reply as she can give him. Or not. “I’m so tired, I don’t even want to think about it right now.” She hesitates. Taemin waits. It’s all he can do. Finally she goes on, a little shaky, “You ever wonder what you’d be doing if you weren’t doing this?”

Nothing special, probably? Taemin was sixteen when he debuted, thirteen when he auditioned, maybe nine or ten when he first saw Rain on TV. He can’t even remember how time moved before he got into music, or his body before it knew how to dance.

Taeyeon doesn’t need an answer, anyway. “You ever wonder what the hell 'this' is?”

Maybe there isn’t one.

“It’s a job.” It’s Taemin’s life. Taeyeon’s, too. There has to be a good way of saying that, but Taemin could sit here in the sun all day and never find it. Still, he has to try. “You never would have met Baekhyun hyung otherwise, right?”

Her smile sticks in Taemin’s chest.

“If I’d never met him I could probably live without him, though?” she says. Then, to her feet, “And there are a lot of people who could probably live without me right now.”

Taemin never understands Taeyeon in the first place, and he has no way to understand her now. He never got any further with his girlfriend than hanging out in groups and holding hands, he’s never had a boyfriend to take on dates, never given Dispatch a reason to follow him, never had a scandal, and he doesn’t even know who she’s talking about—Baekhyun or the other SNSD noonas or the company or the fans—but he gets it. He knows that feeling, enough to know that’s all it is, a feeling. And every time he fucks up lives, goes off key, says the wrong thing, hurts Jonghyun’s feelings, embarrasses the other hyungs, makes Shinee look stupid, lets their fans down, it’s all he’s left with. It always passes, but it never hurts any less.

“When they find out I’m going first they’re going to hate me too,” he finds himself saying.

“Jonghyunnie and Jinki don’t, though.”

Jonghyun’s happier for Taemin than Taemin is for himself, and if Jinki’s unhappy right now, it’s nothing Taemin did, and maybe there’s nothing he can do for him.

“Nobody who knows you hates you, either, noona,” Taemin says.

“You sure about that?” She’s smiling again. “My fans thought they knew me, and now Baekhyunnie’s think they do. I don’t know what they think we’re supposed to do when we’re not working. I never know what I’m supposed to do.” She snorts, turns to the city at their feet, the perfect summer sky. “Live?”

 

Taeyeon stays up on the roof past Taemin’s lunch break. Taemin leaves her the rest of the Pepero sticks and wishes he could leave her with the right words, and goes back to practice room. Back to what he knows.

The backup dancers come back for the afternoon session and go again at five, and somewhere out there the sun starts on its way down. His life cycle narrows down to three minutes, from the first beat to the last, and then it starts again, never any faster, never any slower, again, again, again, until all his body knows his “Danger.” Until all he knows is the next time, the next time. The next time. Until the song stops, and before he can start it again, he realizes he’s no longer alone.

“Hyung?”

“I looked across the street first. I thought I’d missed you.” Jonghyun pushes off the wall, coming up to Taemin, narrowing his eyes at him. “I should’ve known better.”

“I have to get this right before we shoot it,” Taemin says. Working late when it’s just him is better than making the staff stay late on set, Jonghyun knows that from all the times Shinee’s done the same. That doesn’t explain why he’s giving Taemin this look, half-considering, half-reproachful, half Taemin doesn’t know what. “How much did you see?”

Instead of answering, Jonghyun jerks his shoulders and flaps his hands and shuffles his feet, and if Taemin looked half as stupid, he’s in trouble. His laughter takes him by surprise, takes his body over, and when he reaches for Jonghyun there’s no strength left in his arms. Jonghyun fends him off, traps his wrists in his hands, so easily it should be embarrassing.

“I didn’t realize how much we were holding you back,” Jonghyun says, maybe halfway serious, “I was scared your legs would break, you were dancing so hard.”

As soon as Taemin calms down enough to complete a sentence he asks, “Do you want me to show you from the beginning?”

Jonghyun teeters, then shakes his head. “Some other time.”

He probably thinks Taemin is tired out or something, he’s probably trying to be nice. Whatever.

“Maybe I need to practice some more. I don’t want my real fans to say that too.”

Taemin can feel his pout twisting into a smile, but if he bit it back, looked away, pressed his fist to his mouth, Jonghyun would catch on in half a second anyway. He knows all Taemin’s hiding places. And there’s no point. Jonghyun likes it when Taemin plays with him.

He always plays along, too. “You were cool, what I saw was cool. I know for a fact what I didn’t was too.” All Taemin has to do is turn his back on that, go for the sound system, and Jonghyun takes him by the shoulders and spins him back around, taking his weight while Taemin gets his legs untwisted. Jonghyun’s explanation is closer to an apology than an excuse. “Jinki hyung and Minho are waiting in the car. If we take too long Minho will come looking for us.”

“What? Why?”

“You know how Minho is.” About what? “I told him we were going shopping and he thought I was asking if he wanted to come, and then he dragged Jinki hyung along.”

This is all news to Taemin. “You never told me, though?”

“You ready to go, Taeminnie—” Yongdeok hyung, back from the bathroom. He stops short when he sees Jonghyun. “Oh.”

They’ve seen each other a million times now but somehow they’ve never met. Taemin has to fix that, because who knows if Yongdeok hyung might end up taking care of Jonghyun when it’s his turn. “Yongdeok hyung, Jonghyun hyung. Jonghyun hyung, Yongdeok hyung.”

Yongdeok hyung smiles, accepting Jonghyun’s half-bow with a wave of his hand. “I feel like I should be thanking you. You keep doing my job.”

“It’s nothing,” Jonghyun replies. “Honestly, I’m not working much these days, but you must be.” Because Taemin’s such a burden? Jonghyun can feel Taemin’s look, mouth crooking, eyes twinkling, but he goes on like he doesn’t, “Thank you for taking care of Taeminnie.”

Jonghyun takes Taemin from there, down the hall, down the stairs, out into the night.

“We’re going shopping?”

“It’s only the grocery store, Taemin-ah. You don’t need to go home and change,” Jonghyun says, reading Taemin’s mind. He reaches for Taemin, hand warm and firm on the back of his neck, pulling him in just to bury his nose in Taemin’s hair. “You’re fine. You still smell like you.”

Jonghyun would know, he has this thing about smell and Taemin hasn’t changed his shampoo in four years. None of which explains why Taemin’s ears are getting hot, why he’s testing Jonghyun’s grip instead of pulling away, so close to laughing so suddenly.

“I forgot my sweats today.”

He could’ve borrowed from Jongin again, if someone had bothered to tell him. Yongdeok hyung probably has his combo memorized too by now.

“I texted you,” Jonghyun says, in answer to his look. “If you don’t text me back I get to do whatever I want with you~”

Taemin’s pretty sure that’s not how it works. He’s okay not pushing it, though, and explaining himself would mean going back there, up on that roof with Taeyeon, so all he has left for Jonghyun is, “I saw. Four times.”

“But you didn’t read them,” Jonghyun says. Taemin’s not sure if he’s asking until he adds, “Any of them?”

“I forgot. Was it anything important?”

More than buying groceries, at least? Taemin’s starving. He was good all day, if he has to be around food now he wants to be able to eat it.

Jonghyun plays hard to get, making a face, saying, “I don’t know. I forgot what I said~” Fine then. Taemin will just have to look it up. He digs in his pocket for his phone until Jonghyun grabs at him, pulls his hand free. Says, easy as anything, “I have something to show you later, when we get home.”

Taemin stops.

“‘Pretty Boy?’”

Instead of letting him go, Jonghyun tugs at his wrist, pulling him along, across the parking lot.

“We’ll see.”

Taemin’s sure now. “‘Pretty Boy.’”

He doesn’t feel the smile splitting his face until Jonghyun catches him at it, tells him, “Don’t get too excited, it’s only a rough draft,” and then, sneaking little glances at Taemin in between looking everywhere but him, “I’m not used to writing about other people, I’ve been practicing on the people who call into Blue Night, but it’s harder with you. There might be too much me in it.”

“We’ve been through a lot of the same shit, hyung.”

No one’s ever mistaken Jonghyun for a girl or called him one, but he’s still an idol. If no one else sees the Taemin Jonghyun sees, not even Taemin himself, no one else has seen the Jonghyun Taemin sees, either.

Not even Jonghyun himself. When he counters Taemin, “But we’re not the same,” Taemin doesn’t know how to argue with that, doesn’t know why he wants to so badly, why he’s so sure Jonghyun means bad when all he said was different, just that if Jonghyun loves Taemin, he shouldn’t hate himself in the same breath. Jonghyun’s too quick for him, though, already onto the next thing, rushed and strange. “We took my car. Do you want to sit up front with me? There’s no leg room in back.”

Taemin thinks about twisting out of Jonghyun’s grip or taking his hand, stopping again, staying right here until the right thing hits him, but instead he says, “It’s okay. I’m not cramping up.”

“Not yet,” Jonghyun says, searching his face. “Say something if it gets bad, okay? Don’t try to keep it in.”

Taemin’s taller than Jonghyun, but only just, and it’s not like that’s saying much. Minho would die back there. He’s about to die of boredom right now as it is, standing around by the car, waving them closer, demanding, “What took you so long?”

“Nothing.”

Jonghyun gives him this look like he’s not sure what that’s supposed to mean, if it’s the kind of nothing that means something. Taemin doesn’t know either, and he’s the one who said it.

 

Once they hit the store, Jinki peels off on his own, leaving them with the cart. Taemin only knows where he’s gone from the things he brings back, ramyun and Pringles and chocopies, pork and beef and chicken to freeze, soybean paste and red pepper flakes, five pound bag of rice, then a ten pound one after Minho sends him back. All Jonghyun has to say about any of it is, “Are you planning on holding ancestral rites or something?” and, “Don’t get anything that could go bad, even you wouldn’t get to it at this rate,” and finally, “It’s your money.”

And all Minho ever says is, “Big one, Taemin-ah?”

This time it’s soy sauce.

“Call. It’s hyung’s money.”

“Jinki hyung’s,” Jonghyun says, like he’s making one hundred percent sure.

“I hope he didn’t forget his wallet,” Minho says. He smiles when Jonghyun hits him, then grows serious. “He hasn’t been out of the house since Kibummie’s party. That's the whole reason me and Kibummie made him go, too.”

“That’s how he’s always been,” Taemin says.

Sure, it must be even harder doing everything mute, but Jinki’s the same as Taemin, doing anything outside of work takes too much out of him to start with. Coming to places like this when he could just order in or make do with what he can find or whine to his mom about the state of his fridge…He hates the hassle as much as Taemin hates strangers and crowds and going out in public with no makeup on and sweat dried into a second skin—

“You’re never there, Taemin-ah. He’s different.”

Taemin never knows when Minho’s telling him off and when he feels bad all on his own, and this time maybe it’s both. He’s so stuck in his own head. His own stomach, too. He should’ve gone off with Jinki, camped out in the meat section and filled up on free samples or tortured himself in the snack aisle, instead of letting Jonghyun steer him past it, towards the vegetable section.

“Not different, Taeminnie’s right. Worse, maybe?” Jonghyun shrugs off the look Minho gives him, keeping a hand on Taemin like he’s forgotten it’s there, big and warm on the small of Taemin’s back. “What do you guys want to eat tonight? I thought I’d cook.”

“If anyone’s hungry there’s rice at home, it’s too late for anything else,” Minho says.

Taemin’s way ahead of him, he spent the car ride over here trying to remember what he has left of his mom’s banchan. If the other three want in, so much the better. That way they won’t get mad later if Taemin mixes all their moms’ into the rice too.

Jonghyun hesitates. “What about you, Taemin-ah?”

Taemin doesn’t. “Bibimbap.”

Wrong answer. Jonghyun’s face kind of falls, sours, and then he takes his hand away too, ignores Taemin for the first ahjumma in uniform they run across, asking what’s fresh, what he could make with this, how much he should get of that. Taemin has to wait until the freezer section to make it right.

“Rice cakes, hyung.”

Jonghyun’s not impressed. “You’re on a diet.”

Taemin goes for it anyway, because, “You’re not.” Jonghyun can thank him later, the next time he has a tteokbokki craving at four in the morning and doesn’t feel like getting his car out of the parking garage or walking a mile in the dark.

“There’s a bigger bag, Taeminnie.”

Minho’s just pointing it out, glancing between them, half-smiling.

“Call.”

No sooner do Taemin’s fingers close around the bag than Jonghyun comes up behind him, protesting, “Put that back, it’s too much for me, Taemin-ah,” making a grab for Taemin’s wrist. For a second Taemin burns hot and cold, Jonghyun warm and solid pressed along his back, freezer blasting him in the face, ears tingling, and then Jonghyun’s pulled Taemin away, let him get his way, said, “Next time you feel like cheating, then. I’ll have to ask my mom for her recipe~”

Minho snorts. “What about me and Jinki hyung, we don’t get any?”

Jonghyun’s only answer is to smile at Taemin, at the next armful of shit Jinki brings back, at the people they pass, to himself. He’s so easy.

“Wow, all of the sudden I feel like eating seafood pancake,” Taemin says to the first display of shrimp they come across. Then, to Minho, “Do you think hyung would make it for me~?”

Jonghyun’s on it faster than either of them can think. “Jonghyun hyung will.”

So easy.

Jinki and Minho buy out the rest of the store and Jonghyun doesn’t judge them too hard and Taemin follows along, avoiding everyone’s eyes but theirs. They’re safe all the way up until Jinki’s paying, and the ahjumma at checkout asks him if he could sign her copy of the receipt as well. Asks him, “Which group?”

Jinki freezes.

Right away, Minho’s there, plucking the pen out of his hand and adding his signature, too. “Shinee.”

“Ah. My daughter is crazy for EXO.”

“How did you know, eomeoni?” Minho says.

She nods towards Taemin and Jonghyun.

“Your hair,” she says. “You look too nice to be delinquents, so I thought idols.”

Oh.

Jonghyun’s been blond so long Taemin’s forgotten what he looks like with black hair, and the company sent Taemin to get his bleached only a few days ago. Now that his scalp has stopped feeling raw, he’s started forgetting.

“Who’s her bias? If it’s Kai, Taeminnie knows everything about him.” Jonghyun’s fingers close over Taemin’s shoulders, pushing him forward to sign next, combing Taemin’s hair back for him when it falls into his face, bone white. “On second thought, it’s probably better not to ask? It’d probably ruin his image.”

She just laughs, tells them, “I don’t know that much, I can’t keep them all straight,” and bows them out. It’s fallen dark, so if Taemin’s smile has gone weird, if his skin is too tight, no one can see. It’s not as though his head is on fire.

Tomorrow he’ll remember to bring a hat.

 

Once they get back Taemin eats everything Jonghyun feeds him, then vegges out on the couch. He starts with Jinki’s thigh as a pillow, then switches to Jonghyun’s because he probably couldn’t even read Jinki’s book right side up, and at least manhwa has pictures. And if Jonghyun has more fun with Taemin than Naruto, fluffing Taemin’s hair, winding it around his fingers, letting Jonghyun play with him beats playing Fifa with Minho. Every time Taemin loses another game he gets a little closer to getting up, going to shower, and every time Jonghyun laughs at Taemin or sabotages Minho to help him, says stuff like, “It’s not that Minho’s good, you’re just bad,” and, “Hyung can’t save you, Taemin-ah. I’m even worse,” he takes Taemin a little closer to forgetting himself.

He’s almost there when it’s bed time, and Jonghyun follows him into their room and sinks down onto Taemin’s bed instead of his own and says, “‘Pretty Boy.’” Jonghyun pats his thigh. “Did you forget again? If you don’t want it, I guess I could give it to someone else~”

No Jonghyun couldn’t, that’s the whole point. He knows it, too, all smiles and nerves as Taemin sits up, pressing his phone into Taemin’s hand.

“Here. You don’t have to say anything right now, just read it.” He’s watching Taemin’s face like a hawk, lip caught between his teeth. “Sorry hyung couldn’t wait, sorry for keeping you up.”

Taemin reads.

 

_Hey, my thick eyelid crease_  
_Born with an eye smile and laid back nature_  
_Hey, my high bridged nose_  
_My natural smile_  
_Makes you go, Oh my God_

_Every day every day_  
_Every day every night_  
_The excessive worries that surround me_  
_Rumors and interceptions_  
_Every day every day_  
_Again, every night_  
_But I’m fresh_  
_I’ve escaped the rat race_  
_Yes tonight_ 1

“Is ‘rat race’ too harsh?” Jonghyun says, following along over Taemin’s shoulder. “The point is to talk about your image, not ruin it.” And then, moving on before Taemin can tell him it’s not, point out he says worse all the time, Jonghyun’s words are prettier than his will ever be, “That’s the rap, that’s Jonginnie’s part. He can play with it a little if he wants, his flow is different than mine.”

Jongin said he’d be able to do it, even if it meant skipping out on dance practice for an afternoon. First Taemin offered to stay late with Jongin. Jongin told him he’d be useless, he doesn’t know any better than the rest of EXO and they’ll all be staying late no matter what. When Taemin offered to buy him food next he said he was on a diet, and he didn’t need anything in return. That it means as much to him to work with Taemin as it means to Taemin to have him in his song.

“Go on, Taeminnie. It’s still about you, it’s all about you.”

 

_Cause I do it I do it for you_  
_I won’t pretend to be innocent like a puppet_  
_Everyone talks so easily_

_Hey you, tough guy_  
_Relax your hardened shoulders_  
_Hey feel the way I move_

_I’m like a speeding train_  
_You’ll be surprised_  
_Look at that poor girl, I hope you notice_  
_She says ‘you’re a guy so…’ like a habit_  
_Why is being sensitive and prepared the opposite of being a man?_ 1

Yeah, why?

Why.

Taemin’s been looking for the answer to that one for so long he forgot it was a question. He always forgets to ask why. He always forgets he can.

Jonghyun never does. If he doesn’t ask why Taemin’s throat is closing up now, why his heart is hurting, why it’s so hard so suddenly to keep sitting here and keep reading and keep letting Jonghyun see, it’s only because Jonghyun doesn’t know.

 

_Baby, I’m not the kind of flower growing in_  
_A greenhouse like everyone keeps saying_  
_Baby, rather than the tough guys who are all talk_  
_I’ll give you a different kind of trust_

_I may always seem pretty, I may always seem good_  
_I may seem nice, I may seem soft_  
_But that’s all a part of your imagination that’s over my head_

_They say pretty boys are always like this_  
_They say pretty boys just follow along with the flow of things_  
_I’m above the imaginations in your head_ 1

“What do you think? Should I go harder?”

Jonghyun leans in close, pressing his shoulder against Taemin’s. Taemin shakes his head, in case Jonghyun can’t read his answer in his face. This isn’t about the man everyone wants Taemin to be or the man he always wanted to become, it’s about the man Taemin is. This isn’t going to be his “Internet War.” It’s just his.

It’s him.

Jonghyun nudges him again. “Softer?” Before Taemin can say it, he guesses, “No, right?” and keeps going like he’s going to get Taemin to use words if it kills him, “It’s perfect. It’s so perfect you’re speechless. You can’t believe I wrote it. You can’t believe you didn’t. Say something, Taemin-ah~”

What is there to say that Jonghyun hasn’t said for him already?

Just…“Thank you, hyung.”

Taemin’s voice comes out so weird it makes him shy. He can feel Jonghyun’s eyes on his face, but he just, he needs a second.

“That’s it?”

“Mm.” It takes so much out of Taemin just to get that out, but all that gets him is a look. “What? You’re the one who’s good with words.”

“It’s your song, Taeminnie,” Jonghyun says. “If I got you wrong anywhere, if there’s something in here that sounds more like me than you—”

“You know me better than I know myself.” _You love me better than I love myself._ “Thank you.”

Taemin can’t swallow it back, can’t hide in his pillow or go sit on the toilet until it’s safe, so he’s stuck waiting it out where Jonghyun can see. He waits and waits, for this feeling to pass, for the lump in his throat and the tears standing in his eyes to go away, for things to be normal again, for his body to make sense. Puts his head down, and waits.

“Aigoo.” Jonghyun pats his back, pets Taemin’s hair, slides his hand down to squeeze Taemin’s shoulder, pulling him into his side, warm and solid and there. “It’s been a long time for you.”

This is so stupid. Taemin’s being so stupid.

“It’s not like it’s all bad. I used to hate it, but then I thought, I don’t want to change myself just to change how people see me.” Somehow he’s saying this out loud. Somehow his voice sounds like _that._ It’s no better when he tries to laugh, forces it out of his chest. No worse, either, when he says, “Not just anyone can be a fairy, you know.”

“You think I don’t?” Jonghyun demands, squeezing Taemin close. Taemin’s not sure if it’s Taemin’s number one stan or Jonghyunnie hyung talking until Jonghyun cups his face, raises it, looks him right in the eye, and tells him, “You’re you, Taemin-ah.” He pinches Taemin’s cheek, half-smiling, deadly serious all the same. “I like you just the way you are.”

Before Taemin can blink away his tears, Jonghyun’s thumbing them away. Shit, so embarrassing.

“You say that like I never change,” Taemin says, not to be contrary, not to make Jonghyun’s eyes narrow like that, but to say something before it gets too hard. “What if I change some more?”

“As long as you don’t leave hyung behind, it should be okay. I remember when you thought you couldn’t do this, any of it, and now you’re ahead of all of us.” Jonghyun runs his fingertip down Taemin’s nose. “I like _you._ Nothing’s going to change that. That’s what I meant.”

Taemin takes a deep breath, then another, then another, until he can return Jonghyun’s smile.

“Let’s submit it.”

“To Creative?” Jonghyun never asks stupid questions unless he’s taken by surprise. But then he asks another, “Right now?” and another, “You sure? You don’t want to sleep on it?”

What is there to sleep on? Jonghyun just gave the last six years of Taemin’s life back to him, and now he wants to act like it didn’t happen, like Taemin doesn’t know what he’s doing, taking them. Like Jonghyun doesn’t know Taemin’s feelings back-to-front, inside out, upside down, in the dark, by touch, not when he wrote it, and not when he gave it to him, and not now.

Taemin goes back to Jonghyun’s phone. He’s pulled up his email and is working on attaching the file when Jonghyun finally catches up and wrestles it away, tutting, telling Taemin off, “What are you doing, you can’t just send them a blank message, if you get me in trouble you’re in trouble too, do you want to give them a reason to ignore us?” He’s not saying all that to make Taemin laugh, and he’s not just going along with it to make him happy, and he’s not taking forever to see how long Taemin can last before he goes crazy with nerves.

And Taemin’s not pushing him, he really wants to know, really, “Are you done yet?”

“This is a big deal, Taemin-ah. I’ve never submitted something out of the blue like this, usually they send out for lyrics from a lot of people and then maybe mine get picked.”

“At this rate it won’t matter, I’ll be done recording before you send it~”

Jonghyun turns away, back to Taemin, broad and hunched, just asking Taemin to drape himself over it, try again, reaching over Jonghyun’s shoulder.

“Stop it. Stop~” Jonghyun snaps his teeth at Taemin’s wrist. “Should I write it in banmal?”

Taemin bites Jonghyun’s shoulder.

Cotton on his tongue, Jonghyun between his teeth, warm firm skin, slightest catch in Jonghyun’s breathing, ears going hot, and maybe Taemin didn’t think this through. Next second he’s flopped back on the bed, just him and the ceiling, just him and the air in his lungs, the fire in his face, the numbers on his clock, the dot that says his alarm is set, things that aren’t Jonghyun, until Taemin’s foot finds him again all on its own, climbing up his spine. Jonghyun traps it one-handed, then drags Taemin in and traps his leg between his arm and his side. Then goes for his other one. Taemin could turn it against him, try crushing him next, but instead he lies there with his feet in the air and Jonghyun between his legs. Breathes. His ears are burning again. Just breathes. Taemin’s being so weird, he feels so weird. Five minutes ago he was this close to crying, and now this. Whatever this is.

Whatever. It’s all Jonghyun’s fault.

“There.”

Yeah. Taemin’s back to normal. Jonghyun can let him go. There.

But Jonghyun only releases him to lay himself down next to Taemin, taking his hand, pressing his phone into it again. “You send it.”

It takes Taemin a heartbeat, then another, then another then another then another, just to press the button, and two seconds for it to get wherever it’s going. It’ll probably sit in Creative’s inbox until morning, and then Creative will probably sit on it for days and days. It’s okay if Taemin stays right here for a while.

He doesn’t know if it’s okay if Jonghyun does too, warm and soft, arm thrown across Taemin’s chest, smiling into Taemin’s neck, shutting his eyes whenever Taemin takes a peek at him, staring whenever Taemin tries shutting his. He doesn’t know if he’s okay. He doesn’t know anything, it’s like he doesn’t even know himself.

Jonghyun does. It’s okay.

 

It’s not. The sun is shining on the back lot of the studio and the sky is bluer than it’s been in days and all Taemin wants is a cigarette. He left them in his pants and he’s on his own, everyone else he knows smokes is at lunch. He should be, too, so hungry his stomach is eating itself, so nervous he wouldn’t be able to keep anything down. Yongdeok hyung kept telling him he was too skinny, he should’ve listened.

He’s so tired of that. When they played the tape back for him fifteen minutes ago, for the first time in days, he saw the things he did right before he saw the things he did wrong. And it was nothing he couldn’t fix with one more take. Off beat, too stiff, wrong step, mistake here, here, and here.

It’s not the PD’s job to see any of that, though. All he saw was Taemin.

 _Remember to keep your eyes on the camera. Try to keep your hair out of your face, too. Someone get him more hairspray. Stronger makeup, too. Impact is the key word here,_ until finally it was, _You know what, let’s try showing some skin. Don’t eat anything that could make you bloat, Taemin-ah._

Taemin’s been changing outfits all day, suits and sequins and headbands and nose rings. This is more of the same, leather jacket over bare skin, zipped up for now. When he goes back in there they might make him take it all the way off, arms like sticks, abs closer to marshmallow than chocolate. Boom. Impact.

“I thought I’d find you out here,” Yongdeok hyung says.

“Is it time, do they want me?”

“Not yet.” Yongdeok hyung considers him. “Cigarette?”

Taemin can’t make himself say no. After a few puffs his hands stop shaking. Once he’s sure his voice won’t, he says, “I should be used to this kind of stuff by now.” The last time was last fall with “Everybody.” Different song, different PD, same shit. Next time will be, too. “I don’t know why I’m like this, but I am, every time.”

Taemin’s twenty-two and he doesn’t know if it’s “already” or “only.” He won’t be cute forever. If he doesn’t want to go straight from baby to ahjussi, the only way out is sexy, and if he wants to be the kind of artist who can show skin, he can’t refuse when he’s asked to. The end. It’s not up to him when or where or how much.

Yongdeok takes his time replying, blowing smoke, scuffing his shoe along the pavement. And then he doesn’t call Taemin a girl for worrying so much, thump him on the back and tell him to buck up, man up, just gives honesty a try. “I don’t remember the last time I went to the gym. I don’t want to.”

Surprises a laugh out of Taemin.

“Me neither. My body’s only good for dancing,” Taemin confesses. “If I could borrow Jonghyunnie hyung’s for a day…It’s not just his abs, his shoulder line is cool. His back, too.”

And if Jonghyun were here right now he’d say… _What else about me~?_ Or, _You always say I’m like glass, though?_ Or maybe, _You can do this, Taemin-ah. Once you start dancing nothing can stop you, you won’t remember what you’re wearing or not. You don’t even care when you’ve ripped your pants, this is nothing._

Just then the door swings open.

“There you are, Taemin-ah. Time for touch ups.”

The coordi noona’s not going back without him, pressing a hand between his shoulder blades, shepherding him inside. All he has time for is flicking his cigarette onto the pavement and nodding at Yongdeok hyung, who slaps Taemin’s shoulder, calls after him, “I’m here if you need anything.”

Once the coordi noona is done with Taemin’s face she moves onto his body, reaching for his zipper before he can catch up. After standing out in the sun the studio feels cold and her hands even colder, slathering his chest and stomach with oil, then some more once they’ve run a camera test. She finishes with him before the dancer hyungs and crew are ready, and Taemin’s left trapped in his body, standing there with his hand over his navel and his arm across his chest, holding his jacket closed over his nipples. Everyone’s looking at him. He feels too fat and too skinny, grosser than he did before his sweat dried, uglier than he did before they put him into hair and makeup, and if his skin can’t breathe anymore, neither can he.

_I hate this, hyung. I hate that I don’t want to do this. I hate that I don’t want anyone to see me. I hate that it’s my fault. It’s my body, I should’ve taken better care of it. I hate that I needed someone to tell me that, and I hate that I need someone to tell me I’m okay right now._

“Stand by,” the assistant PD calls. “Three—two—one.”

“Danger” thuds on and sets Taemin free.

 

That was Taemin’s day. Taemin’s night is the same night he’s had for the past week or two, stretched out in front of the TV watching _Running Man_ reruns instead of locking himself in the practice room with his choreo or his album like he should. The other three are sprawled out on the couch behind him, and Jinki’s the only one that’s lazier than Taemin, the other two are working. Well, kind of. Once Jonghyun gets bored of editing his Blue Night script he starts reading Minho’s instead.

“Oh! Dahae got this one, too. Lee Kyunghee, right?”

“It’s got her name on it, right there on the first page.” When Jonghyun doesn’t take the bait, just grunts and gets comfortable and flips through faster than he could read, Minho rethinks. “Do you want to run through it with me, do you know any of the parts?” Then rethinks again. "I’m not trying out for the lead, don’t worry.”

Taemin’s heard from Minho himself that drama kiss scenes are like ninety-five percent camera angle and five percent cheesy music and maybe point one one one percent human contact. If Jonghyun gets mad at anyone ever he might as well get mad at the PD. If he gets mad. He shouldn’t.

He says he’s not worried, either. “I only saw it once. You said you wanted to do weekend dramas, now you’re on melos?” Jonghyun’s mouth curls into a smirk. “If you get a death scene, let me know. I want to watch.”

“You say that like it’d be funny.”

Jinki thinks so, smiling into his book, then down at Taemin.

“It might be, with that writer. You might get hit by a truck in the last five minutes,” Taemin says. “Even Rain sunbaenim didn’t look cool then.”

Taemin won’t even get into the one with Shin Minah. It’s been years, and Taemin still doesn’t get how it ended with both Rain and her dead, or why, or how, or _why—_

“Aigoo, you watched his dramas too? Be honest, Taeminnie,” Minho says, grin splitting his face, “did you like him for his dancing or his muscles?”

On a different day, that would be funny, there’d be laughter fluttering in Taemin’s stomach, maybe he would’ve laughed till it hurt, but there’s no point now, because it already does. His soft, useless stomach that’s only good for eating. He never would’ve had an answer for Minho either, so it’s okay if he rolls over and hides his face in the floor, nose squished against the wood, waiting for it to pass, waiting for Jonghyun to stop laughing at him, crazy and breathless.

Which he does. Finally. “What else have you got? _Yoona’s Street?”_

“Yeah, it’s a documentary about Yoona noona. She asked me to do an interview.”

“Uh huh, that’s why there’s a script, and it’s spelled Yoo-na. How dumb do you think I am?”

This is the part where Jinki would say, _Do you really want to know the answer to that?_ He’s probably using his face instead of words.

“Honestly, I like this one the most,” Minho goes on. “It’s not the most exciting, but that just means he won’t run out of ideas after the first week, and there are a lot of funny characters. And I’m a fan of Kim Woonkyung.”

“Me too. I still remember watching _Moon Over Seoul_ with my mom. She still has a crush on Han Sukkyu, she calls him oppa,” Jonghyun says. His toes dig into Taemin’s shoulder. “Was our Taeminnie even born yet?”

Whatever. They’re only three years apart.

“What’s the catch?” Taemin says, just short of asking Minho what his point is.

“Manager hyung gave it straight to me instead of going through SM,” Minho admits. “You can probably guess why.” Taemin thinks he could, but no one needs to hear all the reasons SM sucks, and Minho’s problems are different from his. “Cable. Big time commitment.”

Shinee has a lot of tour dates coming up, but they don’t know when they’re coming back as a group. It’s only been half a year and Taemin’s been doing all the same things on his own, but after 2013, it’s probably felt like a lifetime to the others. Minho can’t live with that much time on his hands.

“What’s the best one they gave you, then?” Jonghyun says.

Jonghyun’s never as hard on him as he is on Taemin. It’s probably because he knows Minho won’t listen, but it’s not like Minho needs to hear it anyway. He’s not like Taemin. He always knows all his options, and if he doesn’t like any of them, it’s so much easier for him to learn to.

“Probably Lee Kyunghee. It’s set for primetime, but the production team said they’re haggling on length, so it might be closer to what I want in the end. As close as I’ll ever get.”

Jonghyun’s foot nudges Taemin again.

“Don’t fall asleep down there, the floor’s too hard, you’ll hurt your back.” Taemin’s not, he’s just tired is all. “Do you want hyung to hurt his, carrying you to bed?”

Like he’s just remembered, Minho asks Taemin, “How did your shoot go today?”

Jonghyun didn’t ask in the car earlier either, and Taemin made him order chicken for the others too and come back here to eat, so he wouldn’t be able to corner him at dinner.

“It went,” Taemin says. He scoots away, out of Jonghyun’s reach. Keeps his eyes on the TV. “I showed skin.”

Somehow the first thing Jonghyun says to that is, “How much?” Jonghyun slides off the couch with a whump. When Taemin doesn’t turn to check like he’s supposed to Jonghyun pokes him in the side. “What, I can’t ask? You don’t want to tell me? I’m not saying this as hyung, I’m saying this as your fan. I have to know what to watch for~”

“There’s nothing to see, you guys know that.” That’s way harder than it should be to say. Jonghyun doesn’t make it any easier, doesn’t poke him again, doesn’t lean over him and pinch his stomach, doesn’t do anything. “I thought the company did too, but I guess not~. They didn’t give me any time to prepare.”

There. He talked. Everything that was inside him is out there. Jonghyun always says that’s supposed to make him feel better, not worse. Whatever. It’s not like Taemin expected it to work.

“You know, I’ve been thinking…” Minho begins, then hesitates. Gets up and picks his way over Taemin, folding himself onto the floor in front of the TV and looking down at him so he can say the rest to his face. “I always let Jonghyunnie hyung have the abs because he can’t compete with my face, but maybe that was too generous. I could really use a workout buddy~”

Jonghyun snorts out a laugh. Taemin can feel his eyes on him, even if he’s talking to Minho when he says, “What abs? I used to work out between one and two, but now I have Blue Night, so…”

Minho hooks a finger in Jonghyun’s collar and peers down his shirt, determines, “You can come too. Kibummie would rather die than exercise, so he’s out, but Jinki hyung—hyung, where do you think you’re going? You’re the one who needs it the most, if you keep gaining weight it’ll be so much worse for you when Shinee comes back.”

Jinki has the right idea. Taemin gets to his feet.

“It’s okay, hyung. It’s too late already, there’s no point.”

Taemin has five whole minutes to himself before Jonghyun follows him into their room.

“You know how cute you are. You don’t need hyung to tell you.”

_You’re you, Taemin-ah. I like you just the way you are._

“I don’t wanna talk about it anymore. It’s fine.”

Jonghyun doesn’t stand over Taemin and wait him out, and for once he sticks to his own bed too, throwing himself onto it, mattress creaking, blanket rustling. Then, “I know it is. You should too. Everything about you is beautiful.”

That’s all Jonghyun ever says. It’s all he can say. If he told Taemin he has a good body, even if he meant it, it would sound like lies to Taemin. He’s having a hard time believing Jonghyun as it is.

“My philtrum?” Taemin says.

Jonghyun doesn’t have to think about it. “Mm.”

So Taemin does. “My big toe?”

“Beautiful.”

Taemin doesn’t know who’s being dumber right now, him or Jonghyun.

“My butt?” Him. Definitely him. “Don’t answer that.” Taemin forces himself onto his feet again. If he doesn’t shower tonight he has to set his alarm back another half hour, and he’d probably sleep through it and live through tomorrow feeling grosser than he did today. “Whatever. They can just edit it if I look too skinny. Remember with _Sherlock,_ they had to edit your muscles out.”

Taemin’s almost to the doorway when Jonghyun says it.

“Come here.” Taemin turns expecting to see some kind of tell on his face, but there’s nothing, just Jonghyun’s eyes, looking into his. “Taeminnie, come here.”

“I’m gonna go shower.”

“Just for a second.”

Taemin’s feet move all on their own, carrying him back to Jonghyun.

“What already?”

Jonghyun smiles, sudden, goofy.

“Show me your abs.”

Somehow _no way_ comes out as, “You’re so weird, hyung.”

Split second staring contest, Jonghyun’s smile curling into a smirk, curling in Taemin’s stomach, and then Taemin gets his body to do what it’s told, stepping away, getting away? Too late. Jonghyun’s too quick, hands fisting in Taemin’s shirt, pulling him back, pulling it up, up, insisting, “Show me,” and Taemin doesn’t know whose laughter that is, why every time he pries one of Jonghyun’s fingers free there’re two in its place, if it’s the air or Jonghyun’s breath that’s tickling his skin, if it’s Jonghyun’s eyes or his hands burning it. He doesn’t know anything. Just stands there with his shirt hiked up, caught up in his own hands, letting Jonghyun hold him in place, look his fill. Pinch him, maybe? Maybe not.

Jonghyun leans in and opens his mouth on Taemin’s navel and sticks his tongue inside.

Hot and wet and deep. Like lightning down Taemin’s spine, straight to his dick, stomach tightening, toes curling, seeing stars, just a second, just one second—

Jonghyun purses his lips and lets it rip, farting noise that hits Taemin’s body before his breath does, hard, knee sinking onto the mattress, Jonghyun between his thighs, flat on his back beneath him, hands off, staring up at Taemin, meeting his eyes like nothing, laughing and laughing. Jonghyun’s not funny, he’s stupid, so stupid, stupid enough to think he is.

Taemin’s just barely smart enough to let him.

Everything in him is telling him to run, but he only gets as far as the shower, and he can’t hide from himself, half-hard, ache so deep inside him Taemin’s fingers could never reach it. The water will have to do all the work, wash this feeling away, like ice on his skin, freezing his brain. All Taemin has to do is hang on and on and on, only touch himself in places where it doesn’t count, scrubbing his hair, soaping up his arms and chest. When he climbs back into his clothes finally he still feels so naked, and he’s only going to take them off again.

This is so stupid, he’s being so stupid. Jonghyun’s done looking.

Or not. Taemin’s halfway out of his shirt when Jonghyun asks, “You’re going to bed? Already?”

It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before millions and millions of times. All the same, Taemin turns away to drop his pants, wishing he could kick them off under the covers without making anything weird. Jonghyun doesn’t get the light until Taemin’s burrowed under his blanket, and then he lingers in the doorway, unsure.

“You can stay, hyung. I don’t mind.”

Taemin doesn’t know what makes him say it, just that he means it, so much it should scare him. But it’s not Taemin’s body talking this time, it’s him. He’d still be saying the same thing now if he’d said earlier, _You first. Unless showing Minho hyung was enough~?_ and not stuck around to see what Jonghyun did. He had a shitty day. He doesn’t want to be like this, shy or confused or embarrassed or crazy or whatever this is, but he doesn’t want to be alone, either. It’s Jonghyun.

“My computer won’t bother you? It always used to.”

Not tonight. He’d have to sleep first.

Time passes.

“Hyung.” Then, louder, so Jonghyun will hear him through his headphones, “Jonghyunnie hyung.”

Jonghyun slips them down around his neck, craning to look at Taemin. “Sleep, Taeminnie.”

“What are you working on?”

“‘Love Belt.’”

“What’s a love belt?”

Taemin’s being annoying. It doesn’t show on Jonghyun’s face, though, washed in the pale glow of his computer, and he sounds normal when he says, “Just something I wrote after my accident. I’ve been thinking about it again lately. A comfortable love, someone who holds you when things are difficult, that kind of thing.” He’s thinking out loud now. “Putting it to music is hard, but I think singing it will be harder. It should be a duet…”

“Put it on your album and ask IU-ssi,” Taemin suggests. “She owes you, you gave her ‘Gloomy Clock.’”

“It suited her, Taemin-ah,” Jonghyun says. At the time he told Taemin that it didn’t suit Shinee or him, that Taemin was too bright and happy, that he should come back after he’s experienced life and gotten hurt more. Taemin never told him that hurt, and he’s not about to now. Maybe Jonghyun’s guessed, because he goes on, breaking into the stupidest smile, “If I had to pick someone for this one…Lee Taemin-ssi?”

“It’ll sound like a Shinee song if I do. And it’ll sound weird if it’s not a girl.” It’s the truth, but it tastes bitter, and probably strands Jonghyun between telling Taemin weird isn’t wrong and telling him he’s not weird. He didn’t know what to say when Taemin came out to him, either, if he should be making sure Taemin knew he could never hate him, or making sure Taemin didn’t hate himself. He’s the reason Taemin doesn’t. Taemin would give anything to give that to Jonghyun, too. “Your music should sound like you, hyung.”

“Yeah, we’ll see.”

If Jonghyun doesn’t want to talk about it, Taemin doesn’t want to either.

“Hyung.”

“What now?”

“Do you want to help pick out the backing track for ‘Pretty Boy?’” It’s so much harder to say it instead of think it, so much worse waiting for Jonghyun’s answer, so bad he can’t. “Once they okay it, I mean. We probably don’t even need to ask, you wrote it, but I could talk to Kim PD for you.”

Jonghyun just looks at him.

“It’s your song, you’ll know it when you hear it. You won’t need me there.”

“I want you there,” Taemin says, too fast.

“Then I will be.”

Taemin’s smile sneaks up on him and knocks him out, so big and sudden and stupid he has to hide it under his blanket.

“Hyung.”

“Taemin-ah~, go to sleep already. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere, not for another hour. And then I’ll be back.”

“Play me something?”

Instead of slipping them back on Jonghyun unplugs his headphones. Taemin closes his eyes and listens and waits for his heart to beat like normal.

 

This time when Taemin asks him for his phone, Yongdeok hyung asks him where he saw it last, which is how he ends up spending his lunch break in the van instead of the back lot. It’s not even noon so it’s not like Taemin was expecting Jonghyun to text him, and all Taemin could say to him anyway is _working late. see u at home,_ but there’s a missed call from Jongin. Taemin doesn’t know what time it is wherever he is, so he takes a chance, calls back.

Twice. Three times. It’s not that he doesn’t want to go back in there, he just doesn’t want to get up. He’s been on his feet since six and he’s got another ten hours at least ahead of him. Today is the last day, one way or the other.

…Four times.

“What already? Manager hyung had my phone, he was in the bathroom when it started ringing. He said it wouldn’t stop.”

“What about you?”

“Just got out for lunch.”

Taemin can tell, he can hear him chewing. It’s okay, it sounds too gross to make him hungry. “Where are you, anyway?”

“South America.”

“You’re lying.”

“Brazil.”

“Lies.”

It must be the middle of the night over there. Jongin would’ve said, _Don’t talk to me. You woke me up._

Jongin laughs, gives it up. “You’re only saying that because you knew I’d lie to you. If you followed us on SNS like a normal person I wouldn’t bother.”

“Aigoo. Soojungie had to set up your account for you,” Taemin retorts. She’s never even tried to make Taemin one, she’s never even offered. That’s probably because she knows better, but still. “She likes you better than me.”

Jongin laughs again.

“At least she calls you oppa.” Soojung always says they decided to be comfortable with each other. Maybe not? Maybe they decided it the same way Jongin and Taemin did, when Jongin never remembered to call him hyung and Taemin never remembered to be mean to him. “She never asks me anything, she just does whatever.”

“I know someone like that.”

“Are you talking about yourself?” Jongin says.

No, “Jonghyunnie hyung.” Moving on. “Has anyone found your thing yet?”

“Twitter?” Taemin can hear Jongin’s smile. “No. I have like twenty followers.”

He smiles back, says back, “Yeah, Kim Jonginnie’s not on Kai’s level,” but then he’s out of things to say. They’ve lasted almost two whole minutes on the phone, which is twice as long as they usually do, but Taemin’s got fifteen left. “What do you post about?”

“Kai,” Jongin replies promptly. “I can’t stan Taemin, Taemin’s taken.”

“What? You have more fans than me, though.”

“Check Jonghyun hyung’s Twitter sometime, I follow him to keep up with you.” Jongin’s laughing at him, again. Taemin has to turn this around somehow, but he’d have to know what the joke is first. “Better yet, check your texts. Soojungie sent it to me.”

Sent what?

_Hyuuuuuung~_

“If it’s weird I don’t need to hear it, it can’t be any weirder than the stuff he says to me.”

Jongin tries him anyway. “Fairy prince~?”

“He took that from our fans.”

If Jonghyun’s not even playing with Taemin half the times he says it, Jongin doesn’t need to know.

“Uh huh. What about, ‘Dracula oppa, please bite my neck?’” He gives Taemin a few seconds to explain that one or deal with it or whatever, but Taemin’s voice splutters and dies, so he uses it to prop the door open instead, avoiding his own eyes in the rearview mirror. It’s too hot in here, he’s too hot, why would he be blushing. Jongin can’t see him so it’s not funny and it doesn’t count, and. “Taemin-ah.”

At his voice Taemin’s heart stops. Jongin does this to him all the time. He’s always joking around until suddenly he isn’t, and it’s worse over the phone because Taemin can’t read it in his face, see it coming.

Normally as he can he says, “Yeah, what?”

Jongin hesitates. “I’m only saying this to you, okay?”

Taemin knows what he means: _Don’t tell Jonghyun hyung._ That probably means it’s about him.

“He always says I don’t tell him anything, what are you so worried about?” Taemin tries, and then again, “Don’t worry. I won’t tell him. Seriously.” And again. “It’s about his girlfriend, right? Hong Dahae?”

“She kept looking at me,” Jongin says finally. “At Kibum hyung’s party, I mean.”

“I know.”

Taemin also knows why it’s taken Jongin a month to say something, why so few words come so hard. He doesn’t need to hear Jongin say, “Do you think he does?”

Yongdeok hyung doesn’t rap on Taemin’s window, Jongin’s manager doesn’t kick him off the phone, their connection doesn’t break up, the sun doesn’t even pass behind the clouds, and none of that would change anything. Taemin would still know the answer. And if he says it out loud he won’t have to be alone with it anymore, but Jonghyun always is.

“He knows,” he says.

“And he’s okay with that?” Jongin says, at a loss. He pauses. He probably hates how that sounded as much as Taemin did. He’s probably going to try again. He’s probably going to ask, “He’s okay?”

The first question is too hard and the second one is too easy. It’s better when he and Jongin stick to telling, not asking, because they both suck at this so badly it should be funny.

“Hyung loves her.” Taemin has to make himself say it, but still, it tastes so bad. And then, next second, before he can stop himself, “She’s cheated on him before.” Jonghyun probably doesn’t even know Taemin knows that and he’s the one who told him. Well. Him and soju. Taemin has no excuse, and it’s not his secret to tell. “Just kissing,” Taemin rushes to add, “I’m only—”

“—telling me, I know.”

It’s only Jongin. There’s nothing more to say. Taemin sits back, stretches his legs, kind of waiting for Jongin to hang up on him, kind of hoping he never does. Finally he says, “How was your concert?”

“Which one?” Jongin says right away, like he was waiting too.

“I don’t know, any of them.”

“The concerts are good,” Jongin says.

“But everything else sucks.”

Taemin knows he’s right, Jongin might as well admit it. Which he does, only to Taemin, only this one time. “Even when we’re not at home we’re still practicing every day. Rehearsing. I’m so bored of it, these hyungs are so slow~. It’s good they can sing. Kyungsoo hyung’s frustrated we aren’t doing more lives.”

“And Baekhyun hyung?” Taemin says. “I saw noona the other day.” Crying, but she went up to the roof so no one know, not Taemin, not anyone, so he keeps his mouth shut this time. “Jonghyunnie hyung said it’s really bad online. They sent secret messages to each other on their public accounts. Instagram or whatever.”

“I feel bad for Taeyeon noona, but it’s probably better we’re not at home right now. Tonight’s the last night in Taipei, then we’re going straight to Shanghai.”

“Fans?”

“Sasaengs,” Jongin says. “There’s this one girl who stayed outside our dorm for three days, she said she wouldn’t leave until she talked to Baekhyun hyung.”

There was a girl like that when Jonghyun got caught with Shin Sekyung. One of their managers would drive her to school in the morning on the days Taemin went to work instead, but she’d always be back before they were. She never touched them, just called Jonghyun’s name again and again and again, louder if he didn’t turn back, so loud her voice carried up to their windows, screaming and crying and singing their songs. Finally the neighbors complained and Manager hyung called the police, who called her parents. Maybe they ripped up her posters and threw her Shinee albums in the trash, yelled at her because they couldn’t hit Jonghyun. Maybe she threw him away first, maybe she’s in love with Baekhyun now. All Taemin knows is that he’s okay never seeing her again.

Jongin changes the subject again. “What about you, what about your MV?”

Finally, something Taemin knows how to talk about.

“It’s so weird, I hated ‘Danger’ until I got to dance to it. The choreo is cool. It’s a lot harder than anything we’ve done as a group, though, I’m gonna die trying to sing it live.” And now somehow he’s out of words again. “Jongin-ah…”

“I’m not suing the company, I haven’t left EXO, and I’d have to go on a date to get caught, I’d have to have someone to date,” Jongin tells him. There’s a smile in his voice as he goes on, “When I’m not okay I won’t have to tell you, it’ll be on the news.”

One on Taemin’s face, too. “Let’s meet up sometime when you get back.”

“It’s been a while.”

“Forever.”

“Mm.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

One of them has to hang up first, so Taemin does. All that means is he’s alone when his phone buzzes, and it’s Jonghyun.

_sorry taeminnie. cant pick u up today_

Taemin starts up, _its fine working late—_

_made stew left it in fridge. im only telling you so don’t worry about hyung and minho getting to it first_

He’s not coming home tonight?

_dont wait up for me. i know u would~_

Taemin’s fingers move on their own.

_dahae-ssi?_

Taemin sends it before he thinks twice, then hates himself, hates today, hates the glare in the windshield, hates this stupid stuffy car, hates all the ways Jonghyun could reply, _^^_ or _dahae noona_ or _hyung will buy you food tomorrow, dont be mad taeminnie._ He gets out, across the parking lot, but Jonghyun catches up to him before he can get back inside, back to the rest of his life.

_watching a movie_

That’s not what Taemin was asking. He doesn’t need to know.

_dvd dont worry_

_kurosawa. rashomon probably_

_its always rashomon_

_she threatened me w/ 9 hr movie. the human condition._

_only telling u so u can watch and report back. sounds like ur kind of thing~_

_or tell minho. help hyung look smart_

_…_

_shes under a lot of stress lately_

Taemin wasn't asking. But now Jonghyun is.

_have u had lunch yet?_

Taemin turns his phone off.

 

The next time Taemin’s in the van he’s trapped and his legs are aching in places he never knew existed and he has Yongdeok hyung to tell him, “Tomorrow’s an easy day, just recording. Do you need me to pick you up?”

Taemin nods yes, then says it, because Yongdeok hyung’s watching the traffic instead of him and it’s better they keep it that way.

“Ah, that’s right,” Yongdeok goes on like he didn’t hear him. “Creative wants to meet with you first. Early. Six o’clock.”

Taemin groans, thunks his head against his window. “Why?”

“Something about a new song?” Yongdeok hyung says, glancing at him.

Taemin snaps back upright.

“‘Pretty Boy?’”

“Could be?” Yongdeok hyung screws up his face, trying to remember. “They don’t tell me much. This time, just that they’ve got some lyrics that need music and they wanted your input.”

Taemin’s heart leaps. “Pretty Boy,” definitely. SM’s system always works the other way, music and then words. Sometimes Jonghyun’s changed things he wrote to fit songs that didn’t fit them, and for some of his lyrics he’s waited years for the right song to come. And there are a lot more where he stopped waiting, turned them into poems or put them to his own music, stuck in notebooks no one will ever read, demos no one will ever hear.

This is the first time Jonghyun’s words haven’t competed against forty or fifty other people’s just to be heard. If SM left it to Yongdeok to remember to tell Taemin, what’s the likelihood they even told him?

Phone. Phone, phone, phone. Yongdeok hyung catches on eventually, digging into his own pocket and passing it to him. Taemin doesn’t realize how hard he’s smiling until Yongdeok hyung smiles back.

Taemin tries explaining, “Jonghyunnie hyung wrote the lyrics,” but that’s as far as he gets before he catches up with himself, and to the Jonghyun in his phone.

_ur not hungry?_

_busy? already ate?_

And then half an hour later:

_ur done talking to me_

_?_

_dont ignore me taemin-ah_

And then an hour after that, _dont work all night. sleep. u need it_

“Are you dating him?”

“Who?” pops out of Taemin’s mouth, before he gets stuck on ‘him,’ heart pounding in his chest. “Jonghyunnie hyung?”

Yongdeok hyung eyes him. “You’re not?”

Is he kidding?

It’s so hard just to get those words out. “Are you kidding?”

Too late, Taemin realizes he’s twisting his hands together, and sits on them.

“If you’re not then forget it,” Yongdeok hyung says mildly, going back to the road.

He’s serious. He hasn’t found Taemin out, there’s no way he could have, but if Taemin had come out and told him ‘hyung’s my boyfriend, so what?’ Taemin’s pretty sure this isn’t what caring would look like. And even if that’s a lie, Yongdeok hyung doesn’t look like he’s lining up a reason not to believe Taemin, either. He looks the same as he always does, chewing his nails down to stubs, creeping too close to the car in front of them, bopping his head to the radio, checking on Taemin in the rearview mirror.

“Hyung has a girlfriend,” Taemin blurts out. It takes Yongdeok hyung two seconds to process that and move on, leaving Taemin behind, floundering. “Why would you even think that?”

“I guess I met all the wrong hyungs, if I’m taking things the wrong way now. Be good to him, Taemin-ah. Be grateful he takes such good care of you. Believe me, it’s not normally like that.” Yongdeok hyung smiles. “Then again, maybe I’m the problem. I’ve never been any cuter than I am now, who’d want to spoil me.”

_Jonghyunnie spoils me too. That’s just how he is. I wouldn’t call myself spoiled, though? Like, that’s not how I am. There’s a difference._

“We’ve known each other for nine years,” Taemin says. “It’s not just that he takes care of me, we take care of each other.”

“Aigoo. Spoil is the wrong word, I take it back. Cherish? Love?”

_I love you. It counts. I count._

It takes Taemin forever to figure out what to say. At first he tries to stick with the facts, _company approved pretty boy^^,_ but then he can’t leave it there.

_thank u hyung_

_for everything_

Taemin’s hands are sweating.

_meeting w/ creative about it. 6 am if u can make it_

He lasts five minutes with that one before he turns his phone off again.

Jonghyun won’t text back any time soon anyway. If he’s sitting through the movie he’s probably on the third version of the same story by now. Maybe not, it’s already eleven thirty, maybe he’s in bed. And if Taemin’s in hell, if that’s what this is, stomach twisting, mouth dry, brain screaming at him to run, muscles just screaming at him, he’s put himself here. He’s being so stupid.

It’s only a text. It’s only Jonghyun. It’s not like Jonghyun’s the one who never answers.

Back on planet earth, Yongdeok hyung is saying, “Where are we going, dorm or home?” and then, before Taemin can answer, “Sorry, it’s just a habit. Dorm.”

“SM.” At his look Taemin says, “I’m not crazy, don’t worry. I haven’t been in the studio for a couple days, I’ll be too nervous to sing tomorrow if I don’t practice now.” When that doesn’t work he tries a smile. “You can just drop me off. I’ll take a taxi home.”

He wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway.

 

When Taemin lets himself in the dorm is dark, but the kitchen is lit up by the glow of the fridge.

“Hyung?”

Jinki starts, turns. Smiles. Taemin’s here to eat, not talk, same as him, so he skips the part where he asks if Jinki couldn’t sleep or what, and goes to stand beside him. He’s not ready for the strange things it does to his heart to see the pot on the second shelf, covered in plastic wrap and labeled with Taemin’s name, scrawled across scotch tape. Instead of checking to see what flavor it is, Taemin turns to the cabinets instead, says, “Ramyun?”

Jinki smiles again. In the time it takes Taemin to find their copper pot and start the water boiling, Jinki forages for eggs, then kimchi. He dithers back and forth on green onions, but Taemin’s okay pretending the dried vegetables ramyun comes with count as the real thing if Jinki is, and anyway, chopping them up is too much work and too many dishes. It’s four in the morning. Taemin leaves the flavor packet to Jinki because he wants it in his soup, not all over the stove, but he takes care of the rest, so he gets to say, “Since I made it I get the lid.” It’s Jinki, though, not Minho or Kibum, so he goes on, “Do you want me to get you a bowl?”

Jinki slips his hand up into his sleeve and pulls the pot towards himself instead. It’s too much energy to fight him for it, so Taemin gets up on his knees in his chair and plants his elbows on the table, airlifting a block of noodles onto the lid before Jinki can mix them up. Jinki laughs at him, but Taemin has no time for that, noodles, kimchi, egg, broth, until all that’s left is dregs, his burned tongue and the burp rising in his throat, this thing inside him that used to be his stomach and the weight of his phone against his leg.

He puts it on the table.

“Why does it taste so much better when it’s bad for you?” he says. “I never like anything I’m supposed to.”

Taemin’s asked the right person but Jinki still can’t answer him, shrugging, smiling again. But then Jinki’s fingers close over his phone. Taemin lets him have it, and in return, Jinki writes him a memo that says, _there’s no supposed to. u can’t help what u like._

Tell that to Kibum. He’s survived on lettuce wraps for months at a time, and every time Taemin asks him how, he says, _It’s not that bad. You don’t need rice to fill up, Taemin-ah. You just think you do._ Jonghyun’s the opposite. He always calls Taemin a pig, but it’s like he thinks Taemin’s like him, he’ll forget to eat if Jonghyun’s not there to feed him, and whenever Taemin goes on a diet Jonghyun goes to pieces.

Taemin pulls the pot back towards him, fishing for scraps, radishes stuck to the bottom, bits of noodle, not full, not hungry, just empty.

“What about who you like?” he finds himself saying. It’s not until Jinki pats his arm that he can bring himself to look up.

_you like me right^^_

That’s easy. “Mm.” He asked for it, but all the same, Jinki makes that face he does when Taemin tries to be funny, smile on his face like he’s forgotten it’s there, or he wishes he could. Too bad Taemin’s not done embarrassing him. “You only see the bad things about yourself, hyung, that’s the only thing you have to fix. You’re smart, you’re manly, you’re good at listening.”

Jinki’s features relax.

_want to try dating hyung?_

“If I were a girl I would,” is the best Taemin can do. Jinki makes a face at him. He knows Taemin likes men as it is. “They used to ask us that all the time, remember? No one ever picked me. Jonghyunnie hyung always said himself.”

Well. He picked Taemin once, when the question was, ‘Which member would you date if he were a girl?’ He used to say stuff like that all the time, before he realized how much Taemin hated it, and stopped. Which Taemin did, a lot, so much it hurt, unless it was Jonghyun saying it. From the beginning, he liked things about Taemin that Taemin hated about himself. His face, his voice, his body. Other people asked Taemin if he even knew how to talk, Jonghyun talked to him. If Taemin talked back, Jonghyun thought he was cute. If Taemin messed up, there was next time. And if Taemin looked like a girl it was _You’re prettier than one,_ if girls’ clothes suited him too well it was _If it’s a joke I’ll do it, I’ll be the girl, it’s not funny when it’s Taemin-goon,_ and if people mistook him for one, Jonghyun never did. _All I have right now is a title, Taemin-ah. “Pretty Boy.” What do you think?_

Jonghyun is the reason Taemin’s trying so hard to like himself now.

_whoever it is i know u wont confess bc ur u but be honest with urself at least. if u like someone, its ok to like them._

Jinki hesitates, then adds, _dating is different story. ask hyungs to meet him first_

Jinki sucks at dating, they all do. What would they know?

“I don’t even know if I want to date.”

He’s liked guys before, wanted to fuck them before, wanted them to fuck him, but he’s never told any of them any of that, not even that first thing, and he’s never found out what happens next. Jinki won’t tell him, either.

_thats ok too_

“I know it is,” Taemin says quickly, but that doesn’t solve anything, he doesn’t feel any different once he’s said it, better or worse. “Hyung,” he says. “I don’t know that I don’t, either. I don’t know anything.” Jinki’s brow creases, and he starts typing again, and Taemin would give anything right now to just _talk_ to him. “Please don’t tell me it’s okay. Try something else. Anything.”

Taemin’s phone buzzes in Jinki’s hand.

Next second, Taemin’s snatched it back, shaky, jerky. If it’s Jongin or Yongdeok hyung—

But it’s Jonghyun. It’s Jonghyun. It’s four thirty in the morning and the surprise hasn’t faded off Jinki’s face and Taemin’s flying and falling and his heart might explode for all he knows and it’s Jonghyun.

_ill be there_

 

“You look like you haven’t slept, Taeminnie.”

Jonghyun was already here when Taemin arrived, leaning against the wall of the building. Taemin’s not sure if Jonghyun was out here smoking or if he was just waiting for him so he doesn’t say anything, but he can’t not see the circles under his eyes.

“What about you?” he says.

“I never do.”

Somehow Taemin has to push so hard just to get himself to admit, “I couldn’t.”

Jonghyun smiles for him, says back, “I never can.” He passes his hand over Taemin’s hair, combing his bangs back from his face. “Are you nervous?”

“Mm.”

Jonghyun’s hand drops onto his shoulder, sudden and warm. Then his other one comes up too, holding Taemin in place, holding him together.

“Don’t be. You don’t have to think about them this time, just think about yourself.”

That’s why.

“It’s your song, too,” Taemin says, before Jonghyun can let him go, stop looking at him, lead him inside, out of the light. “I’ve been thinking…it’s only one song, but still, they’re trying things differently, right? They listened to you. That’s a good sign, hyung. That means they could listen to you again, about your album. It means they _can_ listen.” Taemin takes a deep breath. "Which means what we say matters. Right?"

Jonghyun considers that, considers Taemin, probably considers ten different ways to look at that, a thousand different words to respond to it. “Mm.”

Then he smiles. Not the stupid one that makes Taemin laugh or the smirk that turns him inside out, the one Jonghyun never realizes is there, small and shy and secret, the one that lets Taemin know he’s said the right thing for once in his life.

This is the first time in Taemin’s life it makes his heart flutter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. "Pretty Boy." Kim Jonghyun (Trans. pop!gasa, Color Coded Lyrics). _Ace_ , SM Entertainment. 2014. Retrieved from https://colorcodedlyrics.com/2014/08/taemin-taemin-pretty-boy-feat-exo-s-kai.


	5. Chapter 5

Jonghyun has to pee.

That’s the first and last thing, stumbling out of bed, pants, shirt, banging off the hallway wall. The shower’s on but the door’s unlocked, so he lets himself in, and his conscience can prickle him all it wants, “Sorry, Taemin-ah,” because his bladder is about to explode, and then what.

And then nothing. Now Jonghyun can live. Wake up. Open his eyes.

“Ah!”

Jump out of his skin, because _Taemin._ Words fight up Jonghyun’s throat, _are you okay, what happened, Taeminnie, do you need me, I’m coming in,_ but then the shower door bangs open and there he is. At the sight of Jonghyun he freezes, wide-eyed, breathless, shock probably.

“Sorry, Taemin-ah,” Jonghyun says again, “I couldn’t hold it.”

It’s instinct when Taemin’s eyes snap downward, and it probably should be when Jonghyun remembers himself, puts his dick away. But the blush rising in Taemin’s cheeks, red ears, pink down his neck and chest, the hunch of Taemin’s shoulders and the turn of his head, eyes anywhere but Jonghyun, his hands clapped over his own dick, none of that is.

“What’s wrong, what happened? Did you hurt yourself?”

Taemin blinks so hard it hits his whole body, tiniest flinch. Shakes his head, then again, harder, in case Jonghyun missed it. And then, in case Jonghyun’s not looking because Taemin definitely isn’t, words. “Spider. It ran at me.”

“Aigoo. Hyung will get it.”

Jonghyun’s not a spider, and there’s nothing wrong with his dick, Taemin’s seen it a million times and never cared. They’ve showered together too. But then, that was back at their old dorm, one bathroom between five people, and before they moved in there, half the time Jonghyun took him to the bathhouse Taemin was too shy to bathe. Maybe he’s reverted. Maybe he’ll start getting changed in their closet. Maybe he’s wet and naked and every second Jonghyun stands here like an idiot makes him run colder, blush harder, feel wetter and more naked.

All Jonghyun has to do is take one step forward and Taemin’s backing up instead of stepping sideways, blocking Jonghyun’s way, foot catching on the door of the shower. Jonghyun just barely keeps himself from reaching out, steadying him, making things worse. When Jonghyun goes for a towel Taemin takes a second to register what that even is, where this is going, and a fraction of another to snatch it away from him, yanking it over his crotch, turning away to fit it around his waist. Jonghyun doesn’t pinch Taemin’s ass, doesn’t think about it, just takes him by the shoulders and puts Taemin behind him and pretends not to notice how badly he starts at his touch.

“Where am I looking?”

Taemin finds the courage to follow him into the shower, lingering at Jonghyun’s back, hanging onto Jonghyun’s arm, soaking his shirt, small warm hands, tight little breaths tickling Jonghyun’s skin, his voice right in Jonghyun’s ear.

“Ceiling? I don’t know, it happened so fast. It was so fast.”

That’s right. Jonghyun has to concentrate, or it could get Taemin again, and who knows what would happen this time. He might slip, hurt himself, and if Jonghyun tries to save him, who knows if Taemin would let him. And if he did, who knows how Jonghyun would pay for it, five seconds naked in Jonghyun’s arms and Taemin might feel naked every time he looks at Jonghyun for the next week. Which means he wouldn’t look at Jonghyun, for a whole week. But who knows.

“There, hyung. There!”

Oh, right. Aha? Tiny and black, eight legs and eight eyes, stock still on the wall, probably staring at them.

“Get it, hyung, you said you would, come on. Kill it. Hyuuuung~”

Jonghyun puts his hand out and twitches the spider into his palm with one finger. Makes his choice. Even with the face he’s making at Jonghyun now, Taemin’s so much cuter than it, and he was a lot softer and warmer, too, but still. “What crime did you commit?”

Nothing serious enough for Jonghyun to doom it to fry in the sun. Once Jonghyun left the bathroom the lock clicked and the water cut on again, so Taemin won’t know any better if Jonghyun only goes as far as the living room before he sets it free. Or if Jonghyun takes a few, sitting on his butt in the middle of the floor, waiting for his head to clear, for his brain to catch up with the rest of his body and wake up, for the rest of his body to slow down. It was so hot in there, Taemin likes it so hot. Too hot. Even if he’s stopped blushing he’s probably pink all over now. He probably won’t be able to scrub his embarrassment away, either, Jonghyun will have to do something about it. Tell Taemin how beautiful he is? Like he needs to hear it. Make Taemin forget, make him laugh, embarrass himself more? Whatever. Taemin’s the one who looked at his dick. Peeing isn’t dirty. Jonghyun’s not dirty. If anyone is, it’s the spider.

But it didn’t stick around for Jonghyun to change his mind, so Jonghyun flops down on his stomach and squishes his face against the floor instead.

Someone steps on his butt. Minho, probably. In another second he’ll probably ask Jonghyun, _What are you doing lying here in the middle of the floor?_

“What are you doing up?”

Jinki.

Once Jonghyun’s sure this isn’t a heart attack, he pushes himself upright, and finds Jinki peering down at him, mug in hand. Today’s the first day in a month Jonghyun would be willing to bet that’s coffee and not soju.

He’s not sure if that’s him being smart, but this is him being stupid. “They said it’s okay to talk again?”

“The doctor told me yesterday,” Jinki tells Jonghyun now, like Jonghyun’s not a piece of shit for forgetting he even went, when they went as far as the parking lot together yesterday. Like Jonghyun doesn’t even need an excuse so it’s okay if he doesn’t even have one, because Dahae didn’t actually fuck his brains out. “I’m supposed to shut up unless it’s important, but I guess I get to decide that.” If Lee Sooman could have heard his voice right now, scratchy, hoarse, he would never have named him Onew. Like he’s read Jonghyun’s mind Jinki adds, “Just talking.”

No singing.

Which reminds Jonghyun. Jinki asked him something, too, and for once it was a real question.

“We have rehearsal this morning. SM Town.”

More like wardrobe check. They won’t step on stage until this afternoon. It’s been months since the coordi noonas last got their hands on Jonghyun, too. It’s going to be torture.

“Ah.”

In the time it takes to struggle to his feet a thousand other things rush the tip of Jonghyun’s tongue. “It’s been so long since I woke up to an alarm, hyung. I let Taeminnie have the first shower, too.”

“Aigoo.”

It’s been a month, but Jinki has nothing to say. Nothing important, at least. Jonghyun doesn’t either, because he can’t just tell him _It’s just the first leg, you’ll be back for the rest_ or _No one wants your lines, Taeminnie made me take all your high notes_ or _You know how long it’s been since any of us have heard your voice, hyung. That’s important. You could’ve told us._

“Have you eaten?”

Jinki doesn’t have to think about that one. “I could eat again.”

 

Fifty million outfits later, changing back into their own clothes for lunch, Taemin emerges from behind the screen with his buttons mismatched. There’s no way he would’ve worn that shirt if he’d realized what they were doing today, and Jonghyun had all morning to point that out to him, too.

“Aigoo, come here.”

“Huh? Oh.”

Taemin looks down at himself in time to see Jonghyun’s hands reaching for him, and steps away. Turns away, fumbling with his buttons, whisper of skin, ears burning red.

“Don’t you have your own waiting room, noona?”

It’s not Taeyeon making Taemin shy, it’s Jonghyun. Minho doesn’t need to know that, though, and Jonghyun doesn’t need to tell him off, because Taeyeon’s got that taken care of, leaning across the table and rapping him on the forehead with her knuckles. All he has to do is put his head down and keep his hands and his eyes and his thoughts to himself.

“Don’t worry, if your manager ever gets back, I won’t touch your food,” she tells him. She hesitates, just long enough for Jonghyun to know whatever comes next is a lie. “It’s chaos in there. I don’t care how loud you guys are, there’re only five of you. You have no idea what it’s like.”

Jonghyun doesn’t push it, because she told him the truth on the phone a few days ago. _I broke up with him. Maybe he broke up with me, I don’t know. But we broke up and I’m not okay._ And a few days before that, too. _We’re back together again._ And a few days before that. _We broke up._

Minho thinks about taking her word for it, but he doesn’t know any better, not like Jonghyun, and he’s Minho, so. “Only four today.”

Three. Jonghyun hasn’t existed since Taemin got out of the shower. He might as well have stayed back at the dorm with Jinki and shut himself up until the next important thing.

“We’re down to eight,” Taeyeon says. “Sooyeonnie’s coming in later, she had a meeting this morning. You’d think she’d be tired of corporate bullshit after working for SM, but she’s starting her own company.”

Kibum looks up from his phone. “Fashion, right?”

“Mm. I guess maybe it’s different when you’re not the product? Selling clothes has to beat selling yourself.”

Um….

“You’re lucky Jinki hyung’s not here, noona. I thought it, but I’m holding it in,” Minho says for all of them. The grin splitting his face is less dirty, more shit eating, but still.

Jonghyun knows what Taeyeon meant, so much his heart hurts, so much that he’d rather take it the wrong way, and the thing with her is that a lot of the things she says are harder not to. It’s the other way around with Taemin. Jonghyun knows him better than he knows himself, and it’s still so impossible to get him right. Taemin would have to know his own feelings first, and he never does.

Speaking of which. Taeyeon laughs, wrinkles her nose, says, “Taeminnie thought it too, just look at this face.”

Jonghyun lifts his head just in time to catch Taemin play dumb, as pink as he was this morning. “Thought what?”

Jonghyun has all the time he needs to think better, but instead he gets Taemin wronger than Taeyeon just did. Says loudly, to everyone but Taemin, watching him out of the corner of his eye, “He’s blushing, but Taeminnie’s a pervert.” Like magic Taemin’s on him, eye smile giving him away before his body does, weak with suppressed laughter. It takes Jonghyun half a second to catch his wrists in his hands, and Taemin as long to stop attacking him, trying to twist out of his grip. Jonghyun can’t have that. “We room together, noona. One time I walked in on him watching porn and—”

Taemin presses his hand to Jonghyun’s mouth, as warm and soft as his voice is loud. “Who tried to have phone sex with who?”

Jonghyun lets him go.

 _“What?”_ shoots out of Kibum. He rethinks twice as fast. “I don’t need to hear this, I really don’t.”

Minho’s smiling again, looking between the two of them before he settles on Taemin. “When was this?”

He should just ask Jonghyun. Now that Taemin’s remembered himself he’s forgotten how to talk again, and his own words have probably caught up to him. If he’s not stuck in the shower with Jonghyun and his dick anymore he’s probably stuck on the phone with Jonghyun, listening as Jonghyun tells him he’s going to fuck him with it.

And if Jonghyun’s face has gone hot, if his whole body has gone hot, it probably won’t show. Right? Quickly he says, “Never mind. It was an accident, I thought he was my girlfriend,” but that’s too weak for Minho.

“How do you have phone sex by accident?”

Jonghyun tries to be grateful he didn’t ask _Which girlfriend?_ but Kibum snorts at Minho, disgusted. “Who’s the pervert again?” He gets to his feet, steering Taemin over to the couch in the corner and flopping down next to him. “Just ignore them, Taeminnie. Stay over here with hyung.”

Jonghyun laughs, breathless, helpless to stop himself, but Minho tries getting Kibum back. “You mean mom?”

“Maybe I didn’t give birth to him, but he’s lucky I was there to raise him. If it’d been up to you two and Jinki hyung…” Kibum trails off, so over it he doesn’t bother finishing that thought. “Which reminds me, Taemin-ah. I have something for you.”

For the first time all morning, Taemin can speak normally. “What is it?”

A wallet. Leather. It looks expensive from here.

A present.

Which reminds Jonghyun—

“Don’t tell me you forgot your own birthday? It’s this Friday, Taemin-ah,” Kibum says, torn between judging Taemin and laughing at him. “I’m busy that day, so don’t get mad if I forget to call you.” When Taemin’s fingers close around it, Kibum holds onto it, just until he’s warned him, “I’m giving this to you now, so don’t lose it. If you do you’re dead.”

Jonghyun’s lost track of time, days go by between dates he has to know. Weeks even. It’s not that he forgot Taemin’s birthday, he just didn’t realize it was coming up so soon.

He forgot. He sucks.

One look at Minho’s face tells him he did, too. Whatever. It’s not like they’re too late, and Jonghyun has nothing to buy until Taemin tells him what he wants, anyway.

Taeyeon ditches Minho and Jonghyun for the couch, too, reaching over to ruffle Taemin’s hair. “You’re not allowed to get older, Taemin-ah. What is noona supposed to do, what does that make me?”

“Ahjummas’ Generation?” Jonghyun suggests.

She laughs like she was supposed to, but then Taemin says, “Then hyung is an ahjussi too,” like he’s taking her side or something. Like he needs to, like there even are sides. Or maybe Jonghyun’s the weird one, because Taemin sneaks him a smile, because they’re just joking, because that’s all any of this is, a joke. If Jonghyun got up and went over there, Taemin might make room for him now, or maybe he’d make him take it. And then maybe he wouldn’t tense up against Jonghyun’s side the way he did in the car. Maybe he’d relax into Jonghyun like normal, warm and soft and cuter than Jonghyun knows what to do with.

He already is that last thing.

Jonghyun’s halfway across the room when someone says, “Noona,” from the doorway.

Baekhyun.

Taeyeon kind of freezes, then plays it cool. “You found me.”

Baekhyun struggles with himself for a moment, eyes darting towards Jonghyun of all people, like he doesn’t know what’s okay, if they’re all his sunbaes right now, if maybe everyone but Taeyeon could just not exist for a minute. Jonghyun’s fine with that second thing, as long as Taeyeon is too.

Baekhyun gives her a choice, uncertain, determined. “You want to do this here?”

Every single thing about Taeyeon screams _I don’t want to do this period,_ but definitely, definitely not here. She pinches Taemin’s cheek, pats Kibum’s head, throws Jonghyun a smile he doesn’t believe for a second, and follows Baekhyun out. Maybe she’ll get her voice back by the time they hit the back lot or the stairwell or one of a thousand empty rooms in this place.

Jonghyun takes her spot with a sigh even heavier than his body.

“Did they break up again?” Minho says, coming over too, staying on the opposite end from Kibum, like Kibum’s still annoyed or something. That probably means Minho is, deep down, but if he’s fighting it, whatever.

Out of nowhere, before Jonghyun can, Taemin says, “Last weekend.” At their looks he adds, “Jonginnie said. He said they’ll get back together by next weekend, too.”

He ignores the other two for Jonghyun, question plain on his face.

“It’s complicated, Taeminnie.”

It is, and that’s as real an answer as Jonghyun can give him, because he’s not Taeyeon and he’s not Baekhyun and neither of them is Jonghyun, they might get sick of crawling back at some point.

Wrong again. Taemin opens his mouth to reply, then bites it back, so hard it probably hurts a little. But if he’s done talking again he keeps looking, eyes on Jonghyun’s skin five seconds at a time, deeper and deeper under it. It’s up to Jonghyun to figure out if it’s one of those things he’s supposed to know, or one of the things he’s supposed to pretend he doesn’t.

 

“Taeminnie likes strawberries, right?”

Sure, but he doesn’t like mountains of frosting.

“Don’t just pick whatever,” Jonghyun says, ushering Jinki on.

“Then…the most expensive one?”

Minho judges Jinki this time, so Jonghyun doesn’t have to bother. “Don’t just say whatever.”

Jinki just shrugs it off, anyway.

“I guess I should save my money. I won’t be making any for a while.”

It’d be better if Kibum were here. Jonghyun would’ve been better off buying Taemin’s cake alone than with the two of them. Jinki’s only looking for himself, and Minho’s only looking.

“That one’s pretty.”

“They’re for eating,” Jonghyun reminds him.

“Taeminnie goes for looks first, anyway. He’s not picky.”

Jinki glances between them.

“We’re still talking about cakes, right?”

Minho grins. “I don’t know, are we~?”

Jonghyun knows Taemin has bad taste in men, he doesn’t need Minho to tell him that, but the last time Taemin liked someone he was a teenager, and no one knows what they want at that age, just that they want it. When Jonghyun thinks about his first love now, it’s not like it is in dramas. He just doesn’t get it. Him, her, the whole thing. She wasn’t his first kiss or his first time or his first girlfriend, but she was the first girl to turn him down, for the lead singer in his band. Whenever they went out in groups Jonghyun would come home and lie in his bed and cry in the dark, until it felt like his insides were coming out. And now it’s broad daylight outside, so bright in here, surrounded by everything sweet and fluffy, and just remembering has him about to shrivel up.

“He says he likes someone,” Jinki says.

He’s about to _something._ He needs a second.

Or not. “He told you that?” It just flies out of him. _“Taeminnie?”_ He never tells anyone anything, he never tells Jonghyun. _"You?"_

Jinki’s not looking at Jonghyun like he’s a crazy person, though, and it costs him nothing to tell him, “Kind of?”

“And now you’re telling us?” Minho butts in, but who cares.

“Who?”

Minho turns his frown on Jonghyun.

“And now _you’re_ asking? Don’t, hyung, come on. It’s none of your business.”

Taemin is Jonghyun’s business.

“I don’t know,” Jinki says, glancing between them like he’s not sure who needs to hear it more. He’s not lying to shut them up, though. “That part’s a secret. He didn’t tell me, either.”

That’s that. Except it’s not, not at all.

Less than five seconds bent over the display, cakes, cakes, cakes, and Minho breaks, says, “It must not be anyone we know,” avoiding Jonghyun’s eyes like he thinks Jonghyun would bother calling him a hypocrite, like Jonghyun’s the one who picks ninety-five percent of their fights. Which he’s not. If Minho’s thinking out loud, all that means is Jonghyun doesn’t have to. “With him you can always tell.”

“We know everyone he knows,” Jonghyun says. Because, again, “It’s Taeminnie.” Jinki doesn’t answer to Jonghyun’s eyes on the back of his head, his finger between his ribs, doesn’t look up, read Jonghyun’s mind, get his off cake and on Taemin. The only thing left is asking. Jonghyun hates that. “He really didn’t say anything else, hyung?”

He hates it so much. Even more when Jinki shakes his head, then some more when Minho goes on heedlessly, like he’s backing his own words up, “Remember, hyung, that camera guy at Music Bank, the one who said he was our fan, the one with the earring? Taeminnie couldn’t even talk to him.”

Jinki hesitates, then tries thinking with his head instead of his stomach. “I always thought maybe him and Jonginnie…”

Taemin’s never thought, though. Jongin either. And if things ever change between them, the two of them would probably take years to figure it out. Jonghyun would see it first.

_Then what about falling in love?_

“Or that one dancer hyung, the one who went to the gym all the time.” Minho shuts up finally. Or not. “Jonghyunnie hyung?”

Jonghyun ignores him for Jinki, the only one who hasn’t forgotten what they came here for, grabbing Jinki’s wrist before he can flag the girl behind the counter down. Tries thinking of Taemin instead of talking about him for a second—

“Hyung, phone.” Huh? “Jonghyun hyung. Phone. It’s ringing?”

Oh.

Dahae.

“Check to see if it’s yellow inside first,” Jonghyun says first, for Taemin’s sake, “Last year we didn’t realize it was chocolate until we cut it, and he was disappointed.” He hangs on until he gets a nod out of Jinki, then picks up. “Dahae-yah?” Then goes to the furthest corner of the store, so Minho won’t sprain something, avoiding Jonghyun’s eyes, trying not to make any kind of face. “I’m sorry, baby, I can’t talk right now, could you call me back?”

“What are you up to?”

That means no.

“Shopping.”

“You can’t shop and talk at the same time? Aigoo. Just don’t say anything sweet or dirty. ‘I love you’ or ‘I want you’ or ‘stop doing things to me’ or anything like that.”

Jonghyun steps outside. There’s air conditioning inside but there’re Minho and Jinki and like twenty other people, too, and there’s no point with his face getting this hot. If someone recognizes him he can go bake in the car.

So that’s that, but all he has left to say is, “What is it?”

She smiles in his ear.

“I love you. I want you. Start doing things to me?”

Is she serious? Half the time she’s playing with him, she plays for keeps.

“It’s four in the afternoon?”

She laughs, sudden, awkward, like he’s gone off script. Since he’s being stupid she tries being stupider, stilted and formal. “Then are you free tonight, Kim Jonghyun-ssi?”

He has to say the wrong thing again. One of them, at least. He’s not sure why, “It’s a weeknight, Dahae,” comes out of his mouth instead of _It’s Taeminnie’s birthday,_ but it’s not like she’s about to ask. She never does.

“So come over for dinner,” she says. “We can play footsie. Feed each other. You can eat me too if you want.”

If he wants.

Jonghyun leans his forehead against the wall, blocking out the sun.

“Some other night.” How he got that out without choking on it, he doesn’t know. Except now he can’t breathe anyway. He has to fix that somehow. Fix this. “Tomorrow? I’ll make you something, whatever you want.” Silence. “And then we’ll have all night.”

If she still wants him. He’s such a loser.

“Are you eating with Taeminnie again?” she says finally. “Dongsaeng or hoobae or whatever, he’s not a child, Jonghyun-ah.”

 _It’s his birthday._ “He’s going through—”

“—a tough time right now, you’ve said,” she says over him, impatient. “Maybe if his album sells, he can buy himself food.” She thinks she’s funny, so it’s okay if he doesn’t. “Doesn’t he have any friends? Other hyungs? Parents?”

“Today’s his birthday.”

There. He said it. His mouth has gone dry and his heart rate’s tripled and his body makes no sense, he makes no sense, because how is this a big deal, he’s been there for Taemin’s birthday since Taemin was fifteen years old…but he said it.

“What did you get him?”

She makes sense, she’s being normal. Okay. He’s the weird one. He doesn’t have to make this weird.

“So far just a cake,” he says. “I have to wait for him to tell me what else.”

“And what, you’ll buy whatever he says?”

“He never asks for much.”

Just stuff Jonghyun buys him anyway. It used to be tonkatsu, now it’s hanwoo and soju. One year Jonghyun made Taemin hamburg steak, but that was before he learned how to cook. He almost set their dorm on fire and burnt the meat to a crisp. Taemin likes his beef mooing but he’s always liked Jonghyun more, so he ate all of his, then Kibum’s too, and Jonghyun’s.

“Probably because he never has to?” Dahae’s only saying. “But I’m your girlfriend and somehow I still do. He keeps stealing you from me. Should I fight him for you?” And that’s her cute voice, somehow this is supposed to be cute. Which, she’s his girlfriend, it should be. What is wrong with him today? “Slap him around, pull his hair, put him in his place? That’s how I always deal with my TV husbands’ concubines. But then, it always makes me the bad guy.” What’s wrong with her? Is that supposed to be funny? “Don’t worry, I know we’re not in the Joseon dynasty. Or a drama.”

Jonghyun closes his eyes.

“I have to go, Dahae-yah. Really.” That’s not goodbye or I love you, it’s just the closest he can get right now. The closest he can get to hanging up first is asking her. “Tomorrow?”

She sighs, sudden, explosive.

“I don’t know. I’ll text you.”

“I like it when you call me,” Jonghyun says in a rush, before he can even think. “I like hearing your voice.”

“Uh huh. That’s why you’ve spent this whole conversation trying to hang up on me.”

“I love you.”

She laughs again. “Are you trying to get me to hang up on you now?”

“I love you,” Jonghyun repeats.

“Say it one more time and who knows, I might fall for you.”

Every time he says it he believes himself less. Still, he tries again.

“Dahae-yah—”

One click and she’s gone.

 

Taemin’s ignoring him, too.

Jonghyun came alone to kidnap him, and now he’s had an hour to regret it, sitting on the practice room floor. When Jonghyun got here Taemin couldn’t even hear him over the music he had it turned up so loud, silent, focused, features tight, movements sharp enough to cut glass. Somehow Yongdeok hyung managed. All Jonghyun had to tell him was, “I’ll take him from here,” and he sighed, nodded, thought long and hard about saying goodbye to Taemin. Clapped Jonghyun on the shoulder and shuffled out the door without a word, cracking his jaw on a yawn. Taemin can’t see anyone or anything when he gets like this, but no matter how hard he dances, how much he sweats, how long he goes, he’ll never get to the point where he can’t feel. That never stops him from trying.

It’s okay. He can take all night, keep Jonghyun up all night, keep him waiting until the sun dies and the earth implodes, and Jonghyun wouldn’t get tired of watching him.

Taemin’s body will give up on him before that, though, and Jonghyun has Blue Night, and whatever’s bothering Taemin will be waiting for him too, so two hours in, Jonghyun gets up and joins in. Does everything, does anything, does whatever. Following along and fucking up wherever he can, flailing his arms, jerking his shoulders, tripping over himself, staggering into Taemin, singing along, shouting over the music, “DAAAANGER!”

When Taemin breaks, it’s not with a laugh or a smile, it’s with his hands on his knees, his breath coming out in gasps, muscles giving out. His body hits the floor with a thud, and he flops onto his back, kicks his legs out, look on this face like he thinks he must have died, like he’d rather die than get up ever again. Jonghyun takes his time getting him pop from the vending machine down the hall, lingering, counting time, but he returns to find Taemin right where he left him. Jonghyun settles down beside him, pressing the can to Taemin’s forehead, like ice against his skin. Taemin needs a minute just to reach for it, and then he grabs Jonghyun instead, fingers tangling, and even when it’s this sweaty and clumsy, his hand still looks so pretty next to Jonghyun’s.

Jonghyun doesn’t feel himself smiling until Taemin gives smiling back a try, tight, pained.

Jonghyun pulls away to snap Taemin’s pop open for him, slurping up the fizz, helping him sit up.

Taemin smiles again. Drinks.

Finally says, “Did you see, f(x)’s promotions got cut short.”

“What?”

They just started. It’s only been two weeks. _Red Light_ just took number one on Gaon, and now Taemin’s telling him it’s over?

“You turned your phone off again,” Taemin guesses. As long as he doesn’t know why, it’s fine. “You’re worse than me, hyung.”

As long as he doesn’t know why. It would take Jonghyun all night to tell him all the ways that’s true. Like right now, for example. Taemin just told him five people Jonghyun cares about had a shittier day than Taemin could have, and all he can think about is getting Taemin to care less. Feel less. Smile.

“I heard about Jinri, just not the others,” he says, which is better than any of the stuff in his head, but that’s not right either. “I don’t get it. They can cover for her, no problem.”

“They don’t either,” Taemin says shortly. He scoots back until he can lean against the wall, stretching his legs out, wriggling like he’s trying to work out all his kinks. “Soojungie doesn’t even know if Jinri decided to take a break or the company made her, but they said it’s all lies, her and her boyfriend.” This is where Jonghyun’s supposed to say, _It’s better that way, Taeminnie._ And maybe if he were someone else, he would. Taemin beats him to it anyway, hastening to add, “Don’t worry, I get that part. I’m not stupid.”

Taemin’s been calling the truth lies since he was sixteen years old. How could he not?

Gently as he can, Jonghyun prompts him, “Then what?”

Taemin spins the can in his hand. If he’s not careful he’s going to spill it all over himself.

“Soojungie and the rest didn’t even get a choice, and they don’t even get to be mad, at her or the company.”

“Did she get mad at you?”

Jonghyun’s getting ahead of himself. Taemin, too.

“It’s not that. It probably should be, right?” Taemin says. His mouth tightens, and he sets his pop down to roll his sweatpants up. Knee in his chest, voice all twisted up, hair hanging in his face, hiding from Jonghyun, finally, he says it. “My showcase got canceled.”

What?

When SM gave Taemin a solo album, they said they’d give him the chance to share it with their fans first, before he took it on music shows, and once Creative listened to Taemin on Ian Eastwood, they gave him a reason to think he could get them to listen to him about his showcase, too. B-sides, lives, freestyle even, all the things they never get to do on TV, all things Taemin’s dreamed of. And now…

“They pushed your debut up.”

It’s not a guess. Jonghyun’s just saying it so Taemin won’t have to, so all Taemin has to do is nod. “Mm.” Even that much is a struggle. Taemin hates being mad, he never knows what to do with himself. He always says that when he feels like shit he just feels like shit until he doesn’t, the end. And yet here he is now, struggling to get over it, skip to being fine again, all because Jonghyun’s here to see. Jonghyun doesn’t need his smile, or to hear, “They said they’d give me a solo stage at SM Town. One song. I guess that’s less work for me~”

Happy birthday?

“Taemin-ah.”

“And maybe they won’t have come to see me, but I can steal everyone else’s fans. That fits the concept for ‘Danger.’ Mysterious Thief Taemin.”

“It’s okay if you’re mad.”

“I know it is.” Taemin’s hands are in fists. “I don’t want to be. I’m not okay.”

“You have to let yourself feel things, Taeminnie,” Jonghyun says, because he can’t not. “Does it hurt any less if you don’t talk about it?”

“Would it help anyone if I did?” Taemin snaps. Then, to his knees, “You always want me to talk to you, hyung, but sometimes I have really shitty thoughts, and all I can think of are really shitty things to say. And then I’ll end up feeling bad and wanting to take them back, and that’s worse.”

There’s so much Jonghyun could say to that. There’s nothing, because everything he can think to say, he’d only be saying for himself.

“You ever think maybe it hurts me more if you don’t talk to me?” It’s out of his mouth before he can stop himself. “What’s the shittiest thing you’ve ever said to me, what’s the shittiest thing you want to say right now? Mm?” Jonghyun leans back on his hands, pushes his foot into Taemin’s. “Mm?”

“You can’t annoy me out of it, hyung,” Taemin says flatly, but he’s looking at Jonghyun again. “You always think you can, but you can’t.”

“Yep, hyung is annoying~. What else?”

Jonghyun crawls over to him.

“I didn’t say that.” When Jonghyun tries to get him to say something, anything, nudging him, then again, Taemin stares him down. “Stop it.” Jonghyun tickles his side, but instead of smiling or snatching Jonghyun’s wrist he twists away. “Stop~. I don’t want to take it out on you.”

“I want you to, though.”

Jonghyun pokes him.

“Stop,” Taemin barks. If it’s the last time he’s saying it, so much the better. Jonghyun pokes him again, and Taemin explodes into a sigh. “It’s okay if you can’t fix it, hyung. I’m not a baby, I don’t need you to fix everything.”

“I know you’re not.” Jonghyun pushes his shoulder into Taemin’s. “You’re twenty-two already, when I was your age you called me old.”

“Now you’re old _er.”_

“I know I can’t fix everything, either,” Jonghyun goes on. “Just…some things I can.”

“And some things you can’t,” Taemin retorts. He takes a breath, then another, gets as far as, “Hyung,” before he gets stuck. This time when Jonghyun leans into him, Taemin takes his weight. Jonghyun thinks about putting his arm around Taemin’s shoulders, then thinks about why he even has to think, and then forgets he can when Taemin goes on, “Soojungie said she was going clubbing tonight, she said she’s done wasting her youth. She asked me to go.”

“Clubbing?” Jonghyun just barely bites back, _You?_

“She probably chickened out. She told me not to tell Jonginnie, too. I don’t know what she thinks he’d say. Nothing?”

Who cares about that. “You’ve never been, right?”

Kibum used to go whenever he had a night off. He always told Jonghyun it wasn’t about hooking up, that it was about getting away, getting out of his head, staying out all night, doing whatever the fuck he wanted for once in his life, but since he’s started dating Woohyun Jonghyun’s pretty sure he’s quit.

“I’d probably hate it. Too many people,” Taemin says wryly. “Here suits me better.”

“It’s not just about dancing, Taemin-ah.”

“I’m not a baby, I just said.”

And Jonghyun just said he knows that, too. And he’s just saying. Taemin’s never even had a boyfriend, he’s never even kissed as far as Jonghyun knows, and Jonghyun knows everything. He wouldn’t know what to say if guys hit on him or groped him or slipped him some tongue even, and he wouldn’t know what to do the next morning, if he woke up naked in some stranger’s bed. His first time should be with someone who loves him, someone who can take responsibility for him. Someone who knows how lucky they are to touch him. Someone who would die for him.

Someone.

Taemin just sighs again.

“I can always date when I’m old. Then whoever wants me can take me. Someone will, right~?” Something in Jonghyun’s face makes Taemin’s mouth crook, and Taemin tells him like it’s fact, “You don’t have to be pretty for that, but for this job you do. There’s so much I still want to do.”

If Jinri’s fans think she fell for the wrong guy, Taemin will never be able to fall for the right one, and that’s not just because nobody will ever be good enough for him. And if he got caught, he wouldn’t go on hiatus, he’d be done. His life would be over.

And now Jonghyun’s heart is hurting. Taemin spends every day of his life working so hard and now he’s saying he’ll spend them alone too, and he’s still trying to smile for Jonghyun. Today is his birthday.

“Dating is a lot more than sex, Taemin-ah,” Jonghyun says gently.

All it takes is that one word, and suddenly Taemin can’t meet his eyes. “I’d be fine with it if that’s all it was.”

“What, you’d just date yourself~?” Taemin’s ears go red, face splitting into that awkward, helpless smile he can’t control, but he denies nothing. “Sex is a lot more than that, too. You can have love without sex and sex without love, sure, but for a lot of people, sex is love.”

Taemin hides his face in his hands, says through his fingers, “Why are we even talking about this?”

“Jinki hyung says you like someone.”

Jonghyun said it.

He said it and Taemin heard him, and now he’s making the weirdest face, like he’s about to explode all over Jonghyun, like Jonghyun’s finally gone too far, pulled the pin out—

Taemin bursts out laughing, breathless, hiccupping, stupidly cute, with his whole body. But it doesn’t reach his eyes, or his voice. “That hyung always says useless things.”

Jinki’s not the only one.

“Are you saying you don’t?” Split second searching Taemin’s face, and Jonghyun switches to, “You’re not saying anything?”

_Not to me?_

“Mm.”

“Which one?”

“Whichever.”

Jonghyun bites back his impatience, but he can’t stop his blood from rushing, stop himself before he even starts. “Taemin-ah.”

“Don’t worry,” Taemin says quickly, heading him off, struggling to his knees, then to his feet, “I won’t do anything stupid. I said I wouldn’t.”

And there it is again, that pain in his chest. If Jonghyun doesn’t get up, keep up, say the exact right thing, Taemin will run away from him. The next best thing is hanging onto him, taking him by the elbow, helping him up.

Telling him, “It’s not stupid.”

Taemin shoots him a look, but he doesn’t shrug him off, even when Jonghyun keeps his hands on him, takes him by the shoulders next, steering him towards the door. “You’re the one who said it was, though?”

That was before Dispatch broke Taeyeon and Baekhyun up, before online rumors broke Jinri down, before Jonghyun found out there was someone out there who could break Taemin’s heart. Before tonight.

Jonghyun squeezes Taemin’s shoulders. “Do you want hyung to meet him?”

“What? No,” Taemin blurts out, twisting around to look Jonghyun in the face, eyes wide, so close Jonghyun could count his eyelashes. Too bad he’s about to walk into the wall, because as soon as Jonghyun rights his course Taemin turns away.

Jonghyun’s left with Taemin’s shoulders stiffening in his grip, talking to the furl of Taemin’s ear, glowing red. “Then…” He squeezes Taemin once before he makes himself let go, rubbing his back. Taemin spine snaps straight, and then he relaxes into Jonghyun’s touch. “Do you want to go on a date with hyung tonight?”

“What?”

Every time Jonghyun says something normal Taemin acts like he’s crazy.

“I’m really hungry,” Jonghyun says. It’d do no good to pout, Taemin would have to look at him first. “You’re not?”

Taemin needs a couple seconds, but for the first time all night Jonghyun gets the answer he wants. “I can eat.”

Close enough, anyway.

“What does Taeminnie want~?”

“Dak galbi,” Taemin says promptly, spiciest thing he could come up with, no mercy.

Jonghyun swats Taemin’s butt and Taemin’s steps stutter. He’s probably swallowing his laughter. And he could fuck with Jonghyun all he wants, make him cry enough for both of them, sweat more than Taemin has already, spend tomorrow locked in the bathroom, but he doesn’t want. He was just saying.

Jonghyun guesses again as they hit the stairs.

“Not cake,” he says, then corrects himself, “not yet…Ice cream? Ice waffles?” Normally Taemin would take off, take the steps two at a time, but today he trudges down them, wincing. If Jonghyun gave him his shoulder, would he take it? “Soondae?” Taemin shrugs. “Fishcakes?” Smiles to himself. “Tteokbokki? All of the above?” Aha, a nod. “Soju?”

“None for you,” Taemin says right away, like he was just waiting for Jonghyun to get there. Then he softens. “You don’t mind if I drink?”

Jonghyun catches his eye.

“As long as you don’t mind drinking alone.”

“You’ll be there,” Taemin says, like Jonghyun’s being stupid. And maybe he is, because out of nowhere he’s smiling, too big for his face. He reaches for Taemin’s wrist, tugging him along, but Taemin only gets as far as the landing before he stops.

“Hang on. Let me change first.”

Maybe this is the part where Jonghyun’s supposed to tell him he smells good, but this is the first time in forever that’d mean lying to Taemin. So he turns around instead, troops back up the stairs with him.

 

“That’s Jonginnie’s locker, right?”

“I forgot my sweats again, he won’t care if I steal his.”

“You don’t remember his combo, do you? Take mine.”

Jonghyun doesn’t give Taemin a chance to say no, and Taemin doesn’t even try in the end, just does what he’s told. Jonghyun follows him into the bathroom without thinking, and then it’d make things worse if he turned around and kept watch outside. Taemin doesn’t go hide in one of the stalls, either, just turns to face the wall, kicking off his shoes, standing there in his socks, hunched and shy. Lifting his shirt up, up, up over his head. Jonghyun follows the curve of his spine before he catches himself, looks away, in case Taemin can feel his eyes. But then it’s weirder, just standing here, lights flickering, whisper of clothes.

Jonghyun clears his throat. “Have you thought about what you want, Taeminnie?”

Taemin takes so long to respond Jonghyun’s about to remind him it’s his birthday, but finally he says, “Soju. Tonight doesn’t count.”

Jonghyun sneaks a glance at him. Black briefs. Nothing to tease Taemin about, even.

“You don’t have to ask for that. Something you have to ask for.”

Taemin huffs out a laugh, Jonghyun’s track pants rustling up his legs. “Something you don’t know I want, you mean?”

“I don’t know everything.”

_You don’t tell me anything._

“You asking is enough, hyung,” Taemin tells him now, turning his smiles on Jonghyun again, swallowed up in Jonghyun’s clothes, hanging onto his shoulder as he toes into his shoes. If Jonghyun had been quicker, he could’ve gone to his knees and put them on for him. If this were a drama he would have. But it’s not, so all he does is stand there, and all Taemin has for him is, “If I think of something…”

“I can’t wait forever, I’ll forget,” Jonghyun persists, “and you’ll probably forget before I do.” Taemin laughs again, then some more as Jonghyun piles on, “Hurry up. Anything. Whatever you want.”

Still, Taemin hesitates. “You promise?”

“Mm.”

His tag is sticking out. Jonghyun’s. Whatever. Jonghyun gets it for him, and then Taemin’s nape is right there, the knobs of his spine, soft, soft hair, and Jonghyun can’t see without touching.

“Anything?”

Jonghyun slips his hand out of Taemin’s hair to grip his neck. If he made any sense he’d be getting scared at this point, trying to back out.

“Mm.”

“Then…I want to think about it.”

He’s impossible, all the more when he brushes past Jonghyun, leaving him his stinky, sweaty clothes to pick up from the bathroom floor. By the time Jonghyun catches up to him he’s already halfway down the hallway, and as soon as he sees Jonghyun he goes still, like he’s not sure if it’s safe to wait, if he should be running from him.

It’s his birthday. Jonghyun will let it go, pressing Taemin’s phone and wallet into his hand. Let it out, just a little. “Taemin-ah~”

“You want me to waste it on something stupid,” Taemin accuses him.

“You want to use me.”

Taemin smiles, like he’s glad Jonghyun gets it. “Mm.”

Jonghyun wants him to.

 

Taemin drinks and eats his feelings, then drinks and eats some more. Jonghyun’s not sure if he’s going to have to roll him back to the car or carry him, but in the end Taemin does fine on his own. He remembers to put his seatbelt on, too, and watching the city fly by with his face pressed to his window doesn’t make him sick, just makes him smile, softer, dopier than before. Jonghyun’s not holding his breath for the thing that will make him talk, but then Taemin’s phone rings.

Taemin lets it go the first time. The second time he digs for it, one pocket, then the other.

“Jonginnie.”

That’s the first thing Taemin’s said in forever.

“Pick up, I don’t mind.”

Jonghyun barely gets the words out before Taemin’s got his phone pressed to his ear.

“You remembered? You never remember.” Two second pause. “Don’t lie, Joonmyun hyung reminded you.” Five seconds. “Soojungie did? Aigoo. What else did she tell you?”

Taemin smushes his smile against the window. Too late, Jonghyun realizes he needs to make a turn, craning around Taemin, then reaching across him and pushing him back. As soon as Jonghyun lets go Taemin slumps back, as though Jonghyun had never touched him.

“What are you getting me?” Jongin’s not here to see Taemin pouting, but Jonghyun is. He’s drunker than he thought. Five seconds more, and Taemin laughs, that same stupid laugh from before. It took Jonghyun ten minutes to get it out of him. “You’re so cheap.”

Red light.

“Mm. Oh. That’s what Soojungie said. They canceled my showcase. That’s what hyung said, say something else.”

Green light.

“Jonghyunnie hyung.”

Jonghyun must’ve said the wrong thing, but Jongin gets it right on his second try, because Taemin smiles. It’s the five hundredth time tonight, but it’s the first time Taemin doesn’t know he’s doing it, it’s the first time he’s not doing it for anyone to see, so hard his eyes crinkle up, disappear, and he can barely shape the words, “You’re so stupid.” It’s for real, for the first time.

Car horn. _Go._

It’s still in Taemin's voice when he says, “Jonginnie says hi.”

“Uh huh,” Jonghyun says, but instead of asking how Jongin’s doing, where EXO is, how long before they come back, “Dahae wanted to see me tonight,” comes out of his mouth.

Taemin blinks. Goes still, hands twisting in his lap, fighting to keep his face from falling. It’s not the soju, either, it’s him. He’s never learned to hide the things his face says from Jonghyun, just the things they need words for.

“You’re not coming home?”

Jonghyun shouldn’t have brought her up. Taemin hates her, and Taemin doesn’t need to know any of this, not Dahae’s business, and not, “I told her it was your birthday.”

Taemin goes back to his window.

“You should’ve gone. I ate too much, I’ll get fat.”

“I’m wrong for feeding you? Aigoo.” He reaches over and pinches Taemin’s cheek, and Taemin makes an unhappy noise, tensing up, making zero effort to escape, and there’s this thing fighting its way onto Jonghyun's face, and it might be a smile. “Just save some cake for me, okay?”

“Jinki hyung can eat it all.”

“White frosting, yellow cake,” Jonghyun says. “Your favorite. I made sure.”

“Everything’s his favorite. It’s cake.”

Taemin’s such a brat. He’s not even playing, so why is Jonghyun playing along?

“Fine then,” Jonghyun huffs. “Next time I’ll get whatever I want~”

“Hyung.”

“Yeah, what?”

“I’m gonna show skin. At SM Town.”

Jonghyun takes a minute with that, but there’s no good way to say it, and keeping Taemin waiting is worse. “Did the company tell you to?”

“I want to,” Taemin says quickly, insistently, like he was just waiting for Jonghyun to say that, but the rest of it comes little by little, head down. “If it were my showcase, it’d be one thing, but now I’m only getting one song. I want it to be perfect. Even if they hadn’t said something, I would have.” He’s wringing the life out of his hands now too. “I keep thinking, ‘how do I make this powerful?’ ‘How do I make people remember ‘Danger?’”

Jonghyun reaches over and pulls them apart. Taemin starts at his touch, then relaxes into Jonghyun’s smile, the biggest, stupidest one Jonghyun’s got.

“Are you going to rip your shirt open or something~?”

“Probably. The coordi noonas will figure it out.”

“I’ll have to get a good seat~”

“You’ll be backstage,” Taemin reminds him, but that’s no fun.

“Throw it at me,” Jonghyun says. “Your shirt.” Shaking his head makes Taemin dizzy, so he rests it in his hands, time out. All that means is Jonghyun can watch the road for a second instead of watching for his reaction. “Don’t make me compete with the rest of your fans, I’m on a different level. I was here first.”

“I don’t know~”

“I’ve been here for everything, I’ve seen everything.”

Taemin’s gone pink when Jonghyun turns his eyes on him again, because he wasn’t thinking, because even drunk Taemin can’t stop thinking of it, because somehow this is a thing. Jonghyun gave him his clothes but he makes Taemin feel naked.

Except, Taemin says, “Seeing is one thing, but I’m never showing you again.”

Oh, that time, with his abs. If Taemin doesn’t like people playing with him he should stop being so cute. Like right now.

Jonghyun can’t help it. “You’re perfect. You’re beautiful.”

“I know.”

“Your abs are cute, Taeminnie,” Jonghyun goes on. “You don’t want muscles, do you? You don’t like going to the gym.”

“I don’t like looking at myself, unlike some people.”

Jonghyun hasn’t liked it in months, not since he stopped going.

“Your nipples are pretty. Your navel is cute. Your everything is cute. It’s cuter when you’re embarrassed.”

“Hyung~”

“Cuter.”

“Hyung.”

Taemin grabs his arm, fingers digging in, just too tight.

“Cute~”

Hits him.

“Jonghyunnie hyung!”

Oh. The road.

“You don’t have to try so hard, hyung. As long as you don’t kill me.” Fine then. Jonghyun will focus, and not on him. Except Taemin lays his hand on his arm again, gentler this time, and maybe he forgets it’s there but Jonghyun can’t. Minutes pass. Miles. “I’m fine now. I took everything out on the tteokbokki. You’re not, right? You were supposed to eat more. It’s your favorite.”

“I’m fine, Taeminnie. All I have to do is wait.”

It’s so easy to say, so hard to believe himself, but it doesn’t matter anyway. They’re already here. Jonghyun gets to look again, passing his hand over Taemin’s hair, tucking it behind his ear.

“You suck at that,” Taemin says, staying right where he is, buckled in. “You can’t do nothing.”

“I have Blue Night, that’s not nothing,” Jonghyun says, because it might sound weird if he says, _I have you._ He runs his fingertip down Taemin’s nose. “You want me to walk you up?”

Taemin just smiles. “I didn’t drink that much. Two bottles is nothing to most people.”

It’s only eleven. Jonghyun has all the time in the world, nothing left to do with it but get Taemin’s seatbelt in case he forgets and tries to get up, and say, “Good night, Taemin-ah.”

“Good night,” Taemin says back, right away. He pauses with his fingers curled around his door handle. “I’m saying it now, so don’t wake me up later, okay?”

“Or what? You will get mad?”

“Mm.”

Before Taemin can open his door, before he can stop himself, Jonghyun says, “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Working,” Taemin says, way too easily. “Recording. ‘Pretty Boy.’” He narrows his eyes at Jonghyun, studying him like he’s trying to read ahead. “We don’t have practice, right?”

“The day after.”

Taemin hesitates. “What about you?”

“Dahae.”

Maybe. She texted him ten minutes after he hung up and said to keep Saturday night open, but sometimes that means, ‘Go home and wait for me to call you and don’t do anything or see anyone you wouldn’t drop for me in a heartbeat.’

Taemin makes that face again, the same one from before. “I won’t see you then.”

Not until the day after.

“Good night, Taemin-ah.”

“You said already,” Taemin says, going for his door again. “So did I.”

Jonghyun’s hand shoots out without his permission, holding Taemin’s wrist, holding him back.

“I’ll walk you up.”

“I’m not drunk,” Taemin tells him, almost gently. “I’m not you.”

Good night.

Jonghyun leans in and pulls Taemin in for a hug. Taemin needs a second to catch up, and then his arms come up around Jonghyun, fingers spread out between his shoulder blades, curled in his collar. Taemin squeezes him tight, warm and soft, sweat and strawberry shampoo. Jonghyun squeezes him tighter. Says into his hair, “Happy birthday, Taeminnie.”

 

“Don’t come yet.”

Jonghyun’s so close. so. close.

“Don’t,” Dahae warns him, into the pillow, the mess of her hair, but then her fingers brush the base of his cock, and that’s cheating, that’s not touching herself, and each breath feels like his last. “Fuck. Don’t stop.”

In and out. Air in his lungs, so hot and wet and tight he could die.

Breathe.

When he pulls at her hips she comes willingly, up onto her knees, ass in the air, kissing his skin, and when he bottoms out, she grinds on him, tight little circles, clenching around his dick, taking what she wants. She wants more of it. More. And if she can still talk, tell him, “Just like that. Fuck me, just like that,” so can he.

He angles himself, just. like. that. and hits that spot inside her. “Like that?” She cries out. “Baby?”

“Yeobo,” she pants, heading him off. Not yet. Don’t come yet. Jonghyun’s laughter sneaks up on him, sudden, breathless, shaky, taking over his body, making him weak. “Dad.” Jonghyun can’t bite it back so he bites her, sinking his teeth into her shoulder, planting his hands in the mattress on either side of her head, fucking her harder, faster. He can’t come until she does, and he’s so so so close. “Unnie.” She’ll feel his smile, set into her skin, she’ll try again, he doesn’t even know who’s fucking who, but he can’t stop, he can’t, harder. faster. Harderfasterharderfaster—“Hyung.”

_Jonghyunnie hyung!_

Jonghyun comes.

Loud and messy, deep as he can go, coming and coming and coming, _please, hyung,_ finally coming back to himself, back into his own body. Then he remembers her. It’s not until he’s flipped her onto her back and started down her body and she tangles her hands in his hair, tugging him up, that he sees her face again, and realizes he took her with him. All that’s left of this time is tying the condom off, crawling up to his side of her bed, not thinking. Maybe holding her through her afterglow. Through his. But not thinking. Maybe kissing her.

_Sorry, Taemin-ah. Hyung is dirty, hyung was wrong. It just happened, I didn’t mean to—_

Dahae kisses him, wet and lingering.

Stop thinking. Kiss her back.

“You can stay,” she says into his mouth. Then again as she lifts away, “Seriously, stay. I don’t have to get up tomorrow.”

“I do, though.” Seriously. “Rehearsal starts really early.”

For him, at least. Nine probably isn’t early for her. If he told her, that’s what she’d say. And for Taemin, no matter how long he’s slept, what time it is, waking up is always too early. His day will start before Jonghyun’s, too. Recording. “Pretty Boy.”

Jonghyun’s skin is still buzzing.

“Are you leaving already?” Not right now, not already. In a while. After she gets the lights, before she falls asleep, when it’s been long enough for her to feel like saying good night. But right now. She’s curled into his side, breasts pressed to his arm, leg thrown across his waist, saying into his neck, “I’m lying here naked and you’re leaving.” Leaning into his kiss. Biting his lip, then her own. “Stay a little longer. Just a little.” She smiles, so dirty it steals his breath. “You haven’t come in every hole yet.”

Jonghyun’s whole body goes hot, and his dick stirs. It doesn’t care if it’s the fourth tonight and he just, he can’t. She thinks he can, chasing him as he rolls away, licking at the corner of his mouth, fucking her tongue inside, teasing his, slipping her hand down his chest. He catches it with his own.

“Dahae-yah~”

“You mean you don’t want to fuck me in the ass?” She’s playing with him now, teasing, reaching for him again. “I don’t know when I’ll feel like it again, but you always do. Don’t think I don’t know.” He holds her wrists in one hand, fending her off, face burning, trying to return her smile. Why is his face burning. But then she goes on, “I know how guys are,” and that’s not _I know how you are_ or _you always come first when we do it_ or _aigoo, it’s not like I’m offended, objectify me all you want. It’s still me you’re fucking, just tighter, right,_ and Jonghyun doesn’t know why he can breathe again all of the sudden, dizzy with it.

“Dahae-yah—”

“It’s okay, I don’t have to work tomorrow. I won’t have to get out of bed, even.”

He does, he just said. Maybe he should get out now.

Gently as he can, he says, “Think of me, then.”

One last kiss, short and sweet, and he sits up, swings his legs over the side of the bed, solid ground under his feet. She lolls back, watching him get dressed with this look on her face that sits in his stomach. He can’t read it. Her. He never can.

“Fuck me till I can’t walk,” she says. “Looks like that doesn’t do it for you. Fuck me till it feels like the first time?”

_Whoever wants me can take me._

_“I_ have to be able to walk, though,” Jonghyun says in a rush, _“I_ have to. I’ll be dancing all day.”

His sense of humor never works on her, but if he’s not funny to her his laughter is, high, breathless, nervous. Just not this time. Her mouth curls, her expression sours, then shutters, like this isn’t a joke, this is something else. It’s not hard to see what, looking at her lying here naked like she said, with her glow fading and her sweat drying, bruises and hickeys her clothes will cover, still wet, still waiting for him, watching him. She’ll probably shower once he’s left.

He can’t make himself stop, strip again, crawl in next to her, get it up, fuck her until she’s tired of him, but he won’t let himself turn away, either, staying under her eyes, meeting them, holding them. Hesitating. Freezing up?

“And the first time’s never any good.”

It’s like he has to force the words out, but he should’ve kept them in. Wrong again.

“You do realize saying it like that just makes me feel gross. Thank you.”

She rolls onto her stomach, burying her face in her arms. Dropping a kiss on her hair does no good, so he pulls the blanket over her, sinks down next to her, finds her hand. She yanks it away, buries it under her pillow.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, because he didn’t. “Just…mine wasn’t. I didn’t know what I was doing, I didn’t know anything.” That’s not it, either. This isn’t about him. “I just meant, you don’t know what you want—”

“Next you’ll be telling me you don’t care how many guys I’ve slept with,” she says sharply. She gives him five seconds to figure out what to do with that, herself five seconds to control her expression, and then she can’t take it anymore, sitting up, face like broken glass, awful smile. “You better not.”

She’s not joking. Is she asking?

He doesn’t care. As long as she’s not sleeping with anyone else right now, he doesn’t.

He doesn’t want to.

_Someone will, right, hyung?_

“You hate it when I get jealous, right?” She opens her mouth to reply, but Jonghyun’s a coward, he doesn’t know what he’ll hear if she says it. _I hate you,_ maybe. It has to be him, he has to go there. “I hate it, too.”

_I hate myself._

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Dahae says, too fast. Something in his face twists hers up. “What? If you get to say it, so do I.”

He means it when he does.

And he means this, too. “Good night, Dahae-yah. Sleep well.”

He smooths his hand over her hair and pecks her on the lips, there and gone, no time to see if she’d even kiss him back, then gets to his feet again. Gets as far as the doorway before she shoots at him, “Now I won’t be able to.” She’s ready for him when he turns around, too, sitting up, staring him down. _“What?”_

And just like that, he’s back to lying. “Nothing.”

She’s the one who’s always kicking him out. Maybe it’s no fun if it doesn’t hurt him.

Maybe he sucks for putting his feelings, his shit on her, maybe he’s the shittiest boyfriend ever, maybe he’s a shitty person, but he can’t stop. Even if it’s him this time, even if he’s doing the same things to her she always does to him.

“Ask me to ask you to stay. Go ahead. I already have, like ten times. This is starting to hurt my pride. Should I beg?”

_I hate that. You would, too._

“Call me tomorrow?”

That’s what he said last time, on the phone. Maybe this time she’ll say _We’ll see_ or _I thought you said you’d be busy all day_ or _What’s the point, we have nothing to talk about._

“Are you asking or telling? It gets confusing with you.”

Does it? Jonghyun can never tell her anything. He was through trying a month into this. Into her.

Should he kiss her again? Should he be lingering, like this? Should, should, should. He turns to go.

“Jonghyun-ah.”

Turns again, back to her.

“Fifteen.”

“What?”

She fights with herself, until her face goes blank, and her voice comes out like normal, but what’s the point, when Jonghyun can see everything.

“You’re number sixteen,” she says. “If you want to know how many times…I don’t know.” Of all things she smiles. “How many times have you and I fucked, do you think?”

Jonghyun doesn’t think.

“I really can’t.”

It’s out of his mouth too fast, but he would’ve said it anyway, so he has to live with it.

He’s not the only one, though. He’s not just doing this to himself. He’s so selfish. Once his words hit her, she flops back on her bed. Hides, probably.

“You’re not the first guy who’s said no to me, either, don’t worry.” She’s talking to the ceiling now, not him. “Leave your phone on tomorrow. I don’t know about calling, but if I’m bored I’ll text you. And if you’re bored maybe you can come over, and we can be boring together.”

Jonghyun can go. He can go. Down the hall, out that door, into the night. It’s one thirty. He won’t beat Taemin home, at least he better not, but Taemin might still be up.

Just this first step. That’s all it would take. And still, he hesitates.

“Dahae—”

“Good night.”

 

Traffic is too slow, Jonghyun’s heart is too fast, and he’s too late. The dorm is dark and Taemin is asleep. All Jonghyun has to do is listen to his breathing, and he knows.

That does nothing to explain why he goes to check, standing over Taemin, then sinking down next to him. It takes too long for his eyes to adjust, so long he doesn’t know how he’s ever going to get up again, Taemin so warm and soft, body curled around Jonghyun’s back. He’d be okay right here, forever.

Taemin grunts, and Jonghyun freezes. But it’s nothing, Taemin’s eyes don’t open and his face doesn’t change. Jonghyun would know. He’s been staring this whole time. Open, peaceful, no stress, no worry, no SM, no Jonghyunnie hyung, no nothing. Just Taemin’s dreams.

By the time Jonghyun catches up to his hand he has Taemin’s skin at his fingertips, soft and smooth. This isn’t weird. Jonghyun’s not being weird, and if he is, Taemin wouldn’t hate it. Taemin’s weirder. He’s the one who likes Jonghyun. If Jonghyun likes himself at all, if he’s trying to, it’s all Taemin’s fault.

Taemin hates it when his hair falls into his face, too. He likes it when Jonghyun fixes it for him, like this. Soft and fine, whiter than white, like silk against Jonghyun’s skin, like moonlight.

There.

Not there. Jonghyun’s still right here. Taemin can’t fix that for him, he has to get up somehow. Look away, somehow.

Cheeks, nose, eyes, lips.

Taemin.

His hand is an inch away from Jonghyun’s, curled into a fist under his pillow. Bad dreams? Maybe Jonghyun should open his fingers. He could.

Just as he reaches for him, Taemin shifts again, grunts again, blanket slipping off his shoulder, soft smooth skin, hollow of his collarbone, curve of his spine. It’s too hot in here. The only reason Taemin’s even got his blanket on is because he’s naked under there. Like there’s anyone but Jonghyun here to see. Like Jonghyun hasn’t seen him a million times, like he hasn’t learned not to look.

…He’s looking now. What does that make him?

Jonghyun’s face is so hot.

_Sleep tight, Taemin-ah._

Jonghyun can’t say it. Even if he could find his voice, if it was loud enough for Taemin to hear, if it woke him up, Taemin would hate him forever. So he kisses Taemin good night instead, leaning in, pressing his lips to Taemin’s forehead. That’s why. That’s all.

Taemin can’t feel it, but Jonghyun does. In his stomach, his chest. His heart.

_Wake me up tomorrow. Sleep through your alarm. Sing in the shower. Forget and turn on the light. Wake me up. I didn’t get to talk to you today, it’s been a day since we talked. That’s too long for me. You know hyung can’t shut up._

He has to sleep first. He has to get up, first. Jonghyun’s bed is right over there.

Taemin’s right here. Four hours and one breath away.

 

Jonghyun wakes up alone.

It’s only six, but Taemin’s already gone, and somehow he managed to do it without waking Jonghyun up. Somehow Jonghyun can’t manage to feel grateful for it on this side of things, any more than he could wish for it on the other. He doesn’t feel anything, except like shit, sleep running hot under his skin, like cotton on his tongue. As shitty as the kimchi drama Jinki’s watching, so it’s okay if Jonghyun plops down next to him, and it’s okay if Jinki forgets to get embarrassed, change the channel.

“Where’s Taeminnie? Work already?”

Somehow that’s the first thing out of Jonghyun’s mouth. Whatever. It was never going to be good morning. They’re all like ten years and two dorms past saying that to each other.

Jinki lets Jonghyun’s legs have the middle seat, but he’ll crush Jonghyun’s toes if he crosses the line into his. For now he tells Jonghyun, “With Minho.”

Huh?

“Where is he?”

“Gym.”

Oh.

“Did they ask you if you wanted to come?” That tastes like shit. Everything does. Jonghyun should’ve brushed his teeth first, but now it’s too much to even think of getting up. Taemin’s so much worse than him, he hates getting up, and he hates working out even more. He should go at night if he has to. Which he doesn’t. Jonghyun keeps his eyes on the TV as he goes on, answers for Jinki, “Forget it. They probably knew better.”

“Taeminnie probably knows better with you, too,” Jinki retorts.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Seriously. _“I’m_ mean to him? Meaner than Minho?”

“I guess not then?” Jinki’s the one who said it in the first place and he knows better than anyone how Minho is, he shouldn’t be giving Jonghyun any kind of look. But then he mutters around his fingernails, “You’d be too busy showing off, is all I meant,” and Jonghyun can’t just let that one go.

“Lifting weights isn’t showing off, hyung. Being healthy isn’t showing off,” he says. “And anyway, Minho shows off way more than I do. If he gets abs he’s going to be unbearable.” Jonghyun lifts his shirt, peering down at himself, pinching his own stomach. But that’s depressing. “I’m so out of shape. I have so much time these days, too. Aigoo.”

Instead of telling Jonghyun _At least you have a girlfriend_ or _At least you have a voice,_ Jinki says, “‘Why am I spending it with Jinki hyung?’” Then smiles at Jonghyun’s look. “You’re thinking it, I’m just saying it.”

Jonghyun tries going back to the television, but it’s no good. Commercials. He hates commercials.

He hates his life.

“I haven’t heard back yet,” Jonghyun finds himself saying. “I thought meeting with them would be the worst part, I thought I’d feel better once I got it over with. Instead I feel like this.”

Shit.

It’s been weeks now. He was nervous going in, but he didn’t lose his mind, he said everything he came to say. So did they: nothing.

“Waiting sucks,” Jinki agrees.

It’s Jonghyun who does, having this conversation with him of all people. Maybe Jinki hasn’t lost the last six years of his life, but someone else is holding onto them, the doctors, the company. And he can’t go out and get them back, he has to wait to try, even. And then who knows how much he’ll have to relearn, just to get back to where he left off.

Jonghyun goes back to the good things. “Have you heard any of Taeminnie’s album yet?”

Jinki nods. “Just ‘Pretty Boy.’”

“‘Pretty Boy?’” Jonghyun sits up. Goes on, casually as he can, way too casually, “He showed you?”

“What, he hasn’t shown you?” Jinki replies, surprised. Jonghyun’s not about to answer that, but then Jinki answers himself with another question. “He said that you helped him pick the track, though?”

Jonghyun didn’t have to in the end, it was like he said. It began and ended in a blare of horns, only took them one morning and maybe ten tracks for Taemin to realize he was in love with Creative’s first offering, the sassiest, the loudest, Jonghyun’s favorite, Kim PD’s too. Creative didn’t even ask him what Jonghyun was doing there, and Jonghyun didn’t have to find the right answer.

_I want you there._

He never had to find Taemin’s hand under the table to stop it from shaking or whisper things Taemin forgot to say in his ear, either, just sat there and watched for Taemin’s nerves and took every smile Taemin snuck him, each one brighter than the last. And now he has Jinki’s smile instead, the one that says, _Are you being weird, or am I weird for thinking you’re being weird?_

“I only heard the guide,” Jonghyun says. Not his lyrics, not Taemin singing them. “It was in English. It was a woman, too. Taeminnie was worried they wouldn’t lower it enough.”

“Ah. I only heard a demo. He wanted my advice on how to sing some parts,” Jinki says. Now that Jonghyun’s looking he’s not, head in his hand, staring at the TV. “I’m so used to just showing him, it’s so hard to put into words. He probably should’ve asked you, your technique is better anyway.” He didn’t hesitate when he was saying things to hurt himself, but he does now, eyeing Jonghyun. “You wrote it for him, right? The lyrics were good.”

Jonghyun’s not hurt, he never said he was, he was just saying. If he doesn’t stop being so weird Jinki will just get weirder.

But then Jonghyun just says again, “He hasn’t asked me anything.” Not to go to the gym with him, not for help on “Pretty Boy,” and if Taemin ever does, if he ever has, he never needs Jonghyun in the end, so it doesn’t count. “I do all the work, I take care of him, I do everything, and then he goes to—” _everyone else._ But Jinki’s not everyone else and neither is Minho and Jonghyun knows it. “Someone else.”

Same difference.

“Aigoo.” Jinki breaks his own rules, pushing his foot into Jonghyun’s thigh, digging his toes in. “It’s only because I’m easy.”

“Because I’m so difficult? I’m not mean to him, he’s mean to me. I never make him ask. He always makes me. I do _everything.”_

“That’s the weirdest thing about him,” Jinki says, instead of any of the stuff he probably should. Like _Shut up._ Like _I’ve been here for him this whole time, same as you._ Like, _You’re being crazy. Go back to sleep, you sound like you really need it._

“Is there anything about him that’s normal?” Jonghyun retorts, but that’s no good, he doesn’t mean it, and he still wants to know. “What is, hyung?”

Jinki started it, but he takes some time with that one.

“Just…he works harder than anyone I know, but he never wants anyone to see that. He only wants to show us when it’s perfect. And that’s like point one one one percent of the time, which means he only wants us to see point one one one one percent of him. Right?”

“There’s no us. He let you see.”

“That’s me, though.”

_It’s Taeminnie, though._

Jonghyun bites his tongue, because it’s not like Taemin is his or something, it’s not like Jonghyunnie hyung is Taemin’s only option, or his best, or his favorite even, but somehow the next thing to come out of his mouth is so much worse. “Then you write him a song next time.” So much worse. Jonghyun’s face heats. “I told him he’s cute the way he is, I like him just how he is, and now he’s off getting chocolate abs with Minho.” Jinki laughs and Jonghyun can melt into the couch anytime now, before he says something like, “I can’t tell him anything. Maybe I won’t next time.” Before it gets really bad. “He told you he likes someone.”

Yeah.

Now that it’s out there, this thing Jonghyun didn’t even know was inside him, he spends the next minute trying to make himself take it back, turn it into a joke, do something to get that look off Jinki’s face, when he’d do anything to learn how to read it.

“Kind of,” Jinki hedges finally, splitting time between Jonghyun and the ahjummas fighting on screen, like he’s not sure where the makjang’s happening.

“I don’t even get kind of,” Jonghyun says, and somehow that’s the worst thing he’s said yet. “I'm not on that level. When I asked him about it he said not to.”

Jinki freezes, teeters, probably halfway between getting up and laughing at Jonghyun, but then he stays right where he is, comes out with, “Jonghyunnie is the best~”

“I’m the worst.”

Jinki laughs out loud.

“It’s not cute when hyung does it, huh. Only Taeminnie.”

Whatever. Jonghyun’s never made Taemin say that just to hear it, same as he’s never made Taemin do aegyo just to see it, and he’s never made Taemin do anything ever. The times Taemin does what he’s told are scarier than the times Taemin turns on Jonghyun like he’s supposed to, makes faces, attacks him, says mean things, and who knows which is cuter. Not Jonghyun.

As long as Taemin doesn’t ignore him. As long as Taemin lets him in that little bit, gives him something other than silence, doesn’t leave Jonghyun behind, in the dark, out of touch, and as long as he doesn’t try to do everything on his own. Taemin’s so hard on himself. Maybe he thinks Jonghyun doesn’t know how hard it is for him, maybe he doesn’t realize how hard it is on Jonghyun, knowing, but Jonghyun always has to say something first.

“It’s called pride, hyung.” Jonghyun doesn’t realize he’s said it out loud until Jinki turns to him again, and then he’s left finishing that thought. “The thing with Taeminnie. It’s called being a man. That’s not weird, it’s just useless.” Jinki opens his mouth to reply right away, like it’s that easy, and all of the sudden Jonghyun is so done with this conversation it hurts. “I’m going back to bed.”

Jinki lets him go, calling after him, “I’ll wake you up when it’s time.”

Jonghyun sets his alarm again. Then the one on his phone, too, because somehow he managed to sleep through Taemin’s this morning. Unless Taemin couldn’t sleep and got up before it could ring? Jonghyun only saw twenty minutes of Taemin’s night.

Whatever.

…not whatever.

_what do u want for lunch? ill tell manager hyung what to get_

It’s not like Taemin will reply. He’s probably doing crunches while Minho kneels on his feet and keeps count or pretends to, keeps telling him he’s got five more after it’s been ten, fifteen, twenty. Lifting weights, or trying to, if Minho stops correcting his technique long enough to let him. Maybe showering with Minho. But a minute passes, then another, and then Jonghyun’s phone buzzes. He still exists.

_its ok i get to skip today ^^_

What? Why? Jonghyun buries his face in his pillow, keeps himself away from his keyboard and rides it out, this stupid feeling. Taemin doesn’t give him enough time.

_ur not jealous?_

What? Jonghyun’s stomach flutters, clenches. And then, all in a rush—

_dont be_

_working_

_recording._

He only has a couple days in the studio left. Jonghyun took too long on “Pretty Boy,” and now Taemin’s paying for it. Shinee is too, they’re already missing Jinki, there’s no point rehearsing if Taemin’s not there. And Jonghyun.

_what about tonight?_

It takes Taemin too long this time. It always does, whenever he has to say no to Jonghyun.

_cant. working. behind. kim pd thinks we can finish today_

Can’t what? Sleep? Eat? Jonghyun’s fingers fly ahead of him, but Taemin’s already there.

_dont worry said hed buy dinner for everyone_

Jonghyun makes himself delete everything. He should turn his phone off next, pull his blanket over his head, pretend this day never started, but instead he’s staring at Taemin’s words, trying again.

_pretty boy?_

No hesitation this time.

_i can show u the master on monday ^^_

It always makes Taemin smile, writing smileys. Usually it makes Jonghyun smile too, imagining it. He’s that easy, usually.

_show jinki hyung_

Jonghyun goes to delete that too and ends up sending it, and he doesn’t even know if it was instinct or his thumb slipped or the connection between his body and brain failed for a second, but he sent it and now Taemin’s read it and maybe Jonghyun’s panicking, racing to cover, first thing he can think of—

_minho too_

_and kibummie_

If Jonghyun’s being weird, if he slipped up, Taemin doesn’t even notice.

_buy me food and ill show u first ^^_

What is Jonghyun supposed to say to that?

_just not today_

Backspace.

_i show u my demos_

Backspace.

_have u figured out what u want for ur birthday yet?_

Backspace. What is wrong with him today?

_Ask me for something, Taeminnie. Talk to me._

He can’t delete thoughts, but he can’t just write that either. What if he sends it again? Jonghyun rolls over, curls in on himself. The longer he stays like this, just like this, not moving, not thinking, not replying, just breathing, the smaller this moment should get, because there’s no way Taemin’s still here, agonizing, lingering. He has no time, and he’s not like that to begin with, he’s not Jonghyun. Instead it gets bigger and bigger.

Jonghyun goes for his phone again, for Taemin again, when Dahae texts him.

_are u free tonight?_

_sorry_

_wrong question_

_do u want to come over tonight?_

_sorry_

_will u come over?_

And then Taemin again, all of the sudden. Jonghyun thinks about ignoring him right up until he touches his name.

_see u at home hyung_

Jonghyun doesn’t want to deal with that, so he doesn’t.

_im free. ill come over_

…

_i want to_

Backspace?

Jonghyun grinds the heels of his palms into his eyes and sees spots. Opens them again, and sees nothing. Just the ceiling.

Send.

 

A couple hours later, Jonghyun’s stuck in the waiting room again, waiting for Manager hyung to feed them, again. This time he’s waiting for an afternoon of sound checks and logistics and technical issues, too. Minho peels off to go visiting before they even get in the door, and Kibum lasts five minutes before his phone rings.

“Why are you calling? It’s the middle of the day. Don’t you work?”

That’s Kibum for _Seeing your name made my heart beat faster~._ And the look Kibum is giving Jonghyun now is Kibum for _Wipe that smirk off your face or else._

Which, Jonghyun wasn’t even smirking, but now he is. All that gets him is Kibum’s knuckles sinking into his shoulder and the door swinging shut behind him. There’s no Taemin to annoy away next, no Taemin to play with, and no one to bother him if he stretches out on the couch in the corner and takes a nap. Jonghyun is alone.

Or not. The door swings open again, and Baekhyun steps through.

“Noona’s not here,” Jonghyun tells him. Not now that Baekhyun knows to look for her.

Baekhyun comes closer instead of going away, picking Jonghyun’s legs up and flopping down next to him. Jonghyun thinks about bullying him, laying them across his lap or pushing him off with his feet, but instead he curls up, makes room. What’s the point of being a sunbae if he’s so weak? It’s not even Taemin.

Taemin would’ve sat on him.

At Jonghyun’s look, Baekhyun says, “I came to see you.” Great. “What, I can’t talk to you?”

Just great.

“Talk to her.”

“I’ve tried, believe me.” It’s not that Jonghyun doesn’t get that, because he does, a lot. “I’m not asking you to take sides, hyung,” Baekhyun says in a rush, like he’s getting ahead of Jonghyun. “I’m not asking you to tell me anything secret, or anything bad she’s said about me, or anything.”

She’s not like that, Baekhyun should know better. If there were anything bad enough, anything she couldn’t keep inside, couldn’t deal with on her own, she’d say it to his face.

Instead of just telling him that, though, Jonghyun says, “She has a lot of friends, Baekhyunnie.”

Baekhyun sighs, slouching back, sinking deeper into the cushions.

“They’re all girls, they wouldn’t understand. If it helps, I hate that I have to ask more than you’ll hate telling me.”

“She doesn’t tell me much, either.”

Of all things, Baekhyun smiles.

“She always thinks she can do everything on her own, she thinks she doesn’t need to talk,” he says.

Baekhyun can’t see his own expression, and maybe he can’t hear what he sounds like, so it’s up to Jonghyun to point it out to him.

“I thought you broke up?” Okay, maybe there are better ways he could have said it, but it’s been a shitty day and he’s in a shitty mood and he feels like shit, and he probably won’t be able to sleep, not now, and not later at Dahae’s. Anyway. “Are you staying friends, is that what this is?”

“Like I would know,” Baekhyun retorts. Then he sighs again, louder, heavier. “She dumped me.” He looks to Jonghyun again, hesitating, biting his tongue probably, but that’s a lost cause. Sure enough, he bursts out, “I just, I know she’s not okay. I need to know how bad it is. I don’t know what to do and I have to do _something.”_ And then it’s out there, and he doesn’t need to, not to Jonghyun, but he’s left explaining himself. “I break up with her because I think that’s what she wants, and then I can’t stop thinking about her. I want to be there for her, but it’s like she won’t let me. And if she won’t let me in, I keep telling myself to see how she does without me, but then I go crazy not knowing.” His mouth crooks, sudden, ironic. “This probably sounds really selfish, huh.”

Not to Jonghyun. What would that make him? And if it is selfishness, if that’s what this is, this feeling, Taemin’s silence under his skin, in his stomach, in his heart, then fine. He’s fine being selfish. Baekhyun should be too.

“It sounds like you still love her.”

“Of course I do,” Baekhyun says immediately, “she’s Taeyeon noona. If I got over someone like her this fast, you know how much I’d suck?”

“Going back and forth like this hurts both of you more, though.” Jonghyun’s just saying, but Baekhyun’s face tells him he doesn’t want to hear it. Maybe he doesn’t need to. “Then again, I guess it’s not love if it doesn’t hurt.”

Baekhyun scrubs his hands over his face, then sits back, staring at the ceiling.

“I want her back.”

“Then get her back.”

Like it’s that easy.

“I never had to think about this until now, but half the human population is men, there’re millions of them in Seoul. Everywhere she goes, other men. I’m not worried about you or anyone else in the company, but.”

He’s not going to finish that thought. It’s okay if Jonghyun closes his eyes, turns his face into the couch, asks carefully, “Does Jonginnie have someone?”

Not okay. Right away his face goes hot and he shrivels up inside, and then Baekhyun laughs.

“You think I should be worried about _him?_ I don’t know if he likes girls, even.”

Jonghyun can let it go now. It was a stupid question.

“You don’t know that he doesn’t, though? He hasn’t said anything? Ever?”

“Whenever he goes out, if one of the hyung asks where he’s going, it’s always billiards,” Baekhyun replies, which means, _It’s always Taeminnie._ He smirks. Nudges Jonghyun. “Why, you want me to set you up with him~? Break up with _your_ girlfriend first and then we’ll talk.”

“I’ve broken up with her like six times.” Somehow Jonghyun said that out loud. Somehow he’s not shutting up. “She’s broken up with me.” He takes a deep breath, and it comes out as a sigh. Does him no good. “Honestly, it gets a little worse every time you go back. If you don’t know if you can take responsibility for Taeyeon noona, don’t. It’d be for the best, for both of you. You say she doesn’t talk to you now, but if things end badly she might never talk to you again.”

Baekhyun can’t hate how that sounds more than Jonghyun does, and he’s the one who said it. But Jonghyun’s not wrong. He would know. He’s better off not keeping in touch with his high school girlfriend, better off not being friends with his others, better off leaving Shin Sekyung alone, and he’ll be better off never talking to Dahae again once it’s over, if it’s ever over…but he only ever knew them as women, and he only ever wanted them to see him as a man. With Taeyeon, for Baekhyun, it’d be different.

“I don’t know if I can live without her, either,” Baekhyun admits. “You should’ve told me before I fell for her. I still call her noona and everything. It’s too scary to call her Taeyeonnie, she’d probably hit me.”

Jonghyun smiles. “I always liked calling girls noona. Dahae hates it, though.”

Baekhyun nudges him again, smiling back, a little stupid, a little sly. “What about hyung? Do you like that, too?”

Jonghyun’s whole body goes hot this time.

_Jonghyunnie hyung!_

Jonghyun struggles upright just to flick Baekhyun on the forehead and shut him down, “I like sunbaenim even better,” and that’s all normal, so why did his voice have to come out like that, rushed and breathless, why is his stomach squirming, why is his heart going a million miles an hour?

Why is Taemin doing this to him. Why is Jonghyun letting him.

Jonghyun can’t even ask Taemin. He’s not here.

Baekhyun groans. “I miss her.”

“Go find her.”

“She’s probably busy.”

Jonghyun lays back down, leather creaking under him, sticking to his cheek. Closes his eyes.

“Text her.”

“She’ll ignore it.”

“Tell her you love her.”

“She’ll laugh at me.”

“Say it with your body.”

“What if she hates it?”

“Beg.”

“She’ll feel sorry for me. I don’t want that, that’s the worst.”

“Wait for her to come to you.”

Just saying it takes so much out of Jonghyun. He’s so tired of that.

“I am.”

 

Dahae’s staring at him.

Kissing her doesn’t work. She would have to close her eyes.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says, leaning over him to get the light then settling in next to him.

Jonghyun doesn’t know how long they last, silent, sleepless, just that she can’t leave it like that. She won’t.

She doesn’t. “Just…no rehearsal tomorrow?”

“We have tomorrow off,” he tells the ceiling. He should try telling her. Why is he being so weird about this? Why does he feel so weird? Why does he feel like they never have anything to talk about unless he’s done something wrong?

Why does he feel like he’s done something wrong.

She misses all that, snuggling closer, trailing her fingers over his shoulder, kissing his neck. “You can give your manager this address, you know. If you want to keep me a secret, it won’t be a problem. You know how many people live in this building?”

She sounds like she means it, she’s probably not playing with him, testing him. It’d be okay to say yes. It’d be okay to say pretty much anything but, “It’s okay, baby. If I don’t keep you up I wake you up.”

Those are her words. The first time he slept over and didn’t sleep she told him, _If this is a thing with you, insomnia or whatever, do something about it. Seriously. Or you’ll end up with separate bedrooms when you get married. I’m not saying this as your girlfriend, I’m saying this for your future wife, as a fellow woman. It’s worse than snoring._

“I’ll be busy again soon,” she says now, almost carefully. Too carefully. “We’re running out of time.”

She still hasn’t heard back from Noh Heekyung, same as him and SM. Maybe she’s scared she won’t, too.

“We’ll find it,” Jonghyun says. Who knows if that’s a lie. Jonghyun never does anymore. But this next thing is true, at least. “Anyway, he works hard enough as it is. My manager. I don’t want to make him make an extra stop.”

She goes still. “Extra stop?”

“Besides the dorm.”

“The dorm?” she says, a second too late. “I thought you were living at home.”

“I go back and forth. Does it matter?”

Maybe it’s a stupid question. Maybe he’s just stupid for asking. She pulls away, tucking her hair behind her ear, staring down at him, fingers spread over his heart, black nails.

“I mean…the fact that you lied to me kind of does.”

What?

If he knew what she wanted to hear, if he knew what he’d done wrong, maybe then he could say the right thing. As it is, he’s trapped, stuck explaining himself. Everything, anything, blind, clumsy.

“It’s not the same as having my own place, Dahae,” and, “It’s hard even having family over, you know how many times people thought my noona was my girlfriend?” and when she doesn’t laugh or roll her eyes, the most obvious thing, the place he should’ve started, “We can’t keep our address secret, not from sasaengs, not forever. I don’t know what they’d do to you.”

_I don’t know what it’d do to me and Taeminnie, if I fucked you in our room._

Jonghyun bites his tongue, tastes blood.

She takes the rest of it in, then comes back at him with, “Wow, sounds like a lot of great reasons to get your own place. Kinda like being twenty-five years old does.” She pauses. “Who else lives there?”

“At the dorm?”

“No one’s moved out?” she presses him.

“Kibummie has. Remember, you went to his place.”

“I’m surprised you do, you got so drunk,” she says impatiently. “And the rest of them?”

“Just Minho and Jinki hyung,” Jonghyun replies by rote. Except not. His heart is beating out his chest, and if he doesn’t go on, tell her what she doesn’t want to hear, he really is a liar. “Taeminnie moved out before I did, he lives at home too, but you know what the hours are like in this business. It’s a place to crash when we’re busy.”

“Because you’re so busy right now?”

He has to say it. He has to.

“Taeminnie is.”

There. Jonghyun can’t breathe and he’s made everything worse and if he’s hurt her it’s her turn to hurt him, and his to lie here and take it, but there.

She gets the light. Sits up, stares him down, eyes dark, face darker. No more hiding.

“Just curious,” she says, spitting each word out like it tastes foul, “do you think your sasaeng fans would hate me more than Taeminnie does?”

Sooner than he can think, he starts up, “He doesn’t hate you—”

“I’m a big girl, Jonghyunnie, not everyone has to like me,” she says over him, then sits back, breathing hard, fingers clenched in the sheets, the hem of her T-shirt, eyes in slits. Like that’s that, she’s won, he can shut up now. Too bad she can’t. “Why does it matter so much to you whether he hates me or not, anyway? Do you need his permission to date?”

Flashpoint.

He has all the time in the world to sit up, get eye-to-eye, pull her back down next to him, into his arms. Count his breaths. Figure out what she wants to hear. Bite his tongue off. Lose his words in her mouth, himself in her body.

“You sure it’s not that you hate him?” Jonghyun says. His heart is going to give out. “You never try with him.” His heart. “He never talks about you like this.”

“So I’m a bad person for being honest?” she snaps. “Okay. I kind of thought the point of having a boyfriend is having one person you can actually be honest with, and having one person who’ll actually listen to you and take your side—”

“There aren’t sides.”

“—and won’t fucking lie to you—”

“I’m not lying. You asked, I told you. You never ask.”

“—or fucking talk over you, but hey, I forgot. _Boy_ friend.”

What the fuck is that supposed to mean? No, really.

“Then I can’t be honest with you?” Jonghyun says.

“Go right ahead, be honest, be whatever you think that means. Get mad at me, yell at me, get it all out, fuck it all out, and then go home and be sweet to your baby."

Jonghyun’s not having this conversation naked, in her bed. He’s not having this conversation. Where the fuck are his pants?

“I’ve known him my whole life,” jerks out of him. Feet. Legs, hopping, shimmying. Fucking skinny jeans. As he hits the doorway, blind, head in his shirt, she scrambles up, chasing him down, following him out, clicking on light after light.

“Since you were sixteen, I thought you said, but whatever.” Her voice is shaking as hard as his hands. “You love him, right? Is that what comes next?”

“You don’t love your family?” comes flying out of him. Next second it’s like he’s hit rewind, fast-forward, tripping over himself, voice out of control, jumping ahead. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“You never fucking do.” He gets his first look at her face, and it’s a mistake. “You say you want to be honest with me, so be honest, for once in your fucking life.”

“I’m sorry.”

“They didn’t love me.”

“I’m sorry, Dahae-yah.”

If he ripped his heart out of his chest and gave it to her, would that be enough? When he reaches for her she smacks his hand away, eyes flashing.

“You don’t fucking love me, either.”

Jonghyun can’t breathe. “What?”

“Honestly, I don’t know how we started dating,” she goes on, voice rising, sharpening, no mercy. “Do you?” He didn’t know this kind of thing was dating until he met her. This isn’t dating. She takes the words right out of his mouth, twisting them. “I thought you were cute enough to see again, and then you were good in bed, and then it’s like we never got out, and now here we are, half a year later. You don’t love me. You just use me.”

“What about you?” Somehow it came out like that, desperate, demanding. Jonghyun needs to get out, before he hurts himself, before he says it out loud, asks her, “Do you love me?”

It only took him half a year.

She doesn’t give a shit, her face, her laugh, her shoulders, everything about her standing right here, right now in fake yellow light and some other guy’s T-shirt tells him that. He knew she wouldn’t. It hurts. He knew it would.

“Even if I said it you wouldn’t believe me, you never do. That’s just how you are.” She sneers at him, like razorblades in his stomach. “Like right now, the way you asked me. If this is us breaking up, if that’s what _this,”_ with a wave of her hand she covers her, him, tonight, “is, I’ll tell you for free—insecurity is a big turn-off for girls. Most girls like men.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

_Shut up, Jonghyun-ah._

“What do you think it means?” She scoffs at the look on his face, then pulls him back when he turns to go, so she can look some more. “Aigoo. There you go again.”

“Men aren’t people? I’m a person. Half the time I’m with you it’s like I forget that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, is that what I’m supposed to say?”

“I’m a person, Dahae-yah.” _SHUT UP._ “Most people hate people who look down on them and twist their words and talk shit about everyone they love all the fucking time!” Breathe. He has to breathe. There’s no air in here. “I know I’m hard to love, I know that. I’m jealous, I’m selfish, I’m stupid. But do you think you’re easy?”

He needs air. He needs out.

She yanks him back again, small hands, nails like claws in his arm.

“You think I am, you think you can just come around and fuck me and fuck me and fucking fuck me, and put me away when you’re done.”

“I’m trying. I’m really trying. You make it so hard, but I’m trying.”

“It’s not me, it’s you? It’s my fault you can’t handle me, you want me to take responsibility? _I’m_ not good enough for _you,_ I’m bad for _you?_ YOU?”

 _“I’m really fucking trying!”_ Now he’s yelling, and he can’t see straight and his ribs are closing in and he needs OUT. Jonghyun takes a deep breath, then another, and another, ragged, tight. Breathe. “I’m just, I’m so fucking tired. Aren’t you tired?”

“Then stop,” she retorts, voice lower by contrast, “just fucking stop.”

Hands on her hips, chest heaving, eyes on fire, face twisted into something that should be a smile, so angry she doesn’t know what to do with herself. It’s okay. She’ll do it all to him instead.

“You don’t think if I wanted to, I could go out there and find a guy who’s better than your best?” Dahae laughs out loud. “I could probably pick someone off the fucking street. Most men would kill to date me, most men would kill for me. You’d probably go curl up in a ball. I don’t know what you’re going to do when you go into the army, you’re such a fucking baby. I don’t make you do anything. That’s you making shitty excuses for yourself. I’m sorry I don’t make you feel like a man, I’m sorry you need Taeminnie for that.”

“Don’t talk about him.” _Don’t say his name. Get his name out of your mouth._ “Stop fucking talking about him.”

This time she heads him off, cuts him off, pushing in front of him, pushing him back, making herself into a wall, five foot three, a hundred pounds.

“So should I just shut up and listen to you?” she seethes. “Because he’s all you ever fucking talk about. I can’t say anything.”

“He makes me feel like a person.”

“That again.”

“He makes me happy. He makes me feel good about myself,” Jonghyun says. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. He doesn’t know how it took him this long, how long he’s spent not saying it. “How is that wrong, how are we wrong?”

“Go ahead, make it all about him.”

“You already did, you just did, you do every time.”

“Make me hate him.”

“You already do,” Jonghyun snaps. He thinks he’s snapped. No going back. “How are we wrong? How are we wrong,” she shoves him again, knocks his voice out of his chest, out of control, out of orbit. “It’s not him. It’s you. What did he ever do to you?”

 _“It’s what you did!”_ she screams, voice cracking, breaking, but Jonghyun’s heart doesn’t, keeps right on beating, out his chest, in his ears, fasterfasterfaster. “You’re mine, you’re supposed to love me. ME. What’s so fucking hard about that.”

_“I SAID I’M FUCKING TRYING!”_

Silence, louder than him. Then.

“Are those tears?” she asks. Like Jonghyun would know, like Jonghyun can see what she’s done to him. Like she can’t. Her mouth curls and his throat is closing fast and his eyes are burning, and. “Are you fucking _crying_ right now?”

Jonghyun scrubs his hand across his eyes, blind, seeing red. Laughter again, crazier than before, razor sharp and ripped to shreds, hanging around Jonghyun’s head in tatters, she’s laughing at him. Reaching for him.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Don’t touch you?” She reaches for him again. He jerks away. _“Don’t touch you?”_

It’s too much for her body to hold. She hits him. Then again, again again again, tiny fists clenched white, his chest, his arms, his shoulders. It hurts. It HURTS. He grabs her wrists, just trying to keep her still, stop, STOP, bones like birds’ grinding to dust. If he doesn’t let her go he’ll hurt her, but if he lets go she’ll take his eyes out, but he’ll hurt her, he’s such a piece of shit. **STOP.** Stumbling, snarling, struggling, sobbing like breathing. That’s him, just him, that last thing. “Dahae. Dahae, _stop.”_ His foot, all her weight. It’s nothing. Her knee to his stomach, her shoulder cracking his chest open. Nothing. She rears up, wrenches away, face twisting, hands curled into claws—

His face.

Next thing he’s forced her back onto the couch, so hard she bounces. She’s up already when his fingers come away wet again. Red.

Blood.

Door. Shoes. Out.

“Where are you going? It’s one in the fucking morning. Where are you going? Where. are. you. going I said. Where the fuck are you going?”

Nothing cooperates, not his body, clumsy, numb, nerves on fire. Not his stupid fucking shoes. Not her door, because her palm slams across it.

“It’s one in the fucking morning and you can’t even answer that question.” When she laughs again it sounds like it hurts. Just not him. He’s done. “I knew you were a younger guy but I didn’t realize I was dating a fucking child. What? You won’t talk to me? Silent treatment? I hurt your feelings? You have so many of them, you have no idea. I can’t say _anything_ when I’m around you, you twist everything I say into something bad, you make me feel like shit all the fucking time—”

“I can’t breathe in here.”

That was his voice, because somehow he’s still talking.

She is too, raw, ripped to shreds. “You’re going back to him, aren’t you?”

His fingers curl around the edge of her door, just asking to get broken, but he jerks it open, just wide enough to squeeze through. “Oh, whatever. Go. GO. Maybe he’ll let you fuck him, and you won’t need me anymore.” The second she lets go it bangs off the wall, but she doesn’t so it’s okay, bare feet slapping against the tiles. Not okay, because if she touches him again he doesn’t know what he’ll do and that’s not okay. He’s not okay.

There are security cameras everywhere and she left her panties on her bedroom floor and he’s not looking back.

He can’t wait for the elevator so he hits the stairs, two at a time, short fucking legs, staggering, death grip on the railing. He’s only down a flight when the door explodes open again, her voice like shrapnel.

“Fucking BASTARD. I never want to see your face again. Fuck off. Kim Jonghyun! _Kim Jonghyun!_ Where the fuck are you going!” She’s crying. If she trips and falls or chases him down to his car, if someone besides him can hear, someone with ears or a heart, just one thing that’s not black and broken inside them, that could be the end of her career. The end of her life. His too. “Jonghyun-ah! Jonghyun-ah.”

But finally. FINALLY.

Out.

 

The night hits him harder than she ever did, sweet summer air, moon smirking, stars winking. The next thing is his car, exactly where he left it. He has a heart attack searching for his keys, because if he left them up there, but he lives through it. Gets himself inside while he can still see, snot, tears, breath coming too fast, tight, hitched, hysterical, but he’s breathing. He can breathe.

And then he meets his own eyes in the rear view mirror, and he can’t.

He can. Breathe. Breathe.

She didn’t scratch him that badly. He can’t feel it anymore, and it’s nothing the coordi noonas can’t hide if it comes to that. Maybe the others won’t notice. Maybe they won’t ask. Maybe Jonghyun walked into a tree. Played with a friend’s cat. His girlfriend isn’t a human woman after all, she’s a gumiho, Jonghyun saw her in the moonlight.

There’s this thing rising in him. He can’t swallow it back, can’t hide from it. If he closes his eyes it’s dark, if he hits himself it hurts, if he shouts it’s loud, and the thing is still here with him, taking him over, cutting off his air, squeezing his heart until it bursts, bloody and broken and he can’t fucking take this anymore.

He takes it. Messy, disgusting, pathetic, weak. He’s not a man, he’s not a person, he’s just shit. Everything he touches, everything he does, everything he feels, everything inside him, shit. Shit. SHIT.

Breathe.

Take it like a man.

Breathe.

He can’t go home. Back to the dorm, he means. He has to go home, to his mom, his noona. They’ll be in bed. His mom will let him sleep, she knows how he is.

Taemin can’t see him like this. So what if he knows Jonghyun inside out, so what if he knows he’s a loser, so what if Jonghyun’s spent the past summer crying on his shoulder, pretending he doesn’t remember, to himself, to Taemin, to God. So what if Taemin is all he has, so what if nothing on planet earth could make him hate Jonghyun—

_Are you just going to pretend you’re somebody you’re not your whole life?_

Not like this. Not like this.

_Taeminnie…_

Jonghyun takes a deep breath. His hands are shaking as he scrubs them across his eyes, his whole body is shaking. Should he call someone? Is he okay to drive? Whatever. No one in Seoul is. If he’s been in an accident like ninety percent of them have too, and that was only because he’d gone days without sleep. _If this is a thing with you, insomnia or whatever, do something about it._

“Fuck you,” Jonghyun mutters. Starts the car.

The only something he’s ever done about it is Taemin. Should he do something now?

There’s no should.

There’s no Jonghyun without Taemin, but there’s a Taemin without him, back at the dorm, in his bed, sleeping, dreaming, maybe drooling on himself. There’s nothing. Just Jonghyun and the road, the steering wheel in his hands, the world outside his windshield, blurred until he has to blink again, sniff, never sure if it’s snot or tears, just that it’s not blood or sweat. He has none left. He needs to wash his face. He needs a shower. He came inside her an hour ago and she didn’t get up to wash him off her, so he stayed in her bed, stayed in her sight, in her eyes. Never in her heart. Never. She’s inside him now.

_Try thinking of my feelings, too. You never do._

“You don’t have any.” That’s a lie. He’s a fucking liar. He left her crying. “I have too many, you should’ve accepted some of mine. I’m too much for me, even.”

_He doesn’t need you. I do._

Jonghyun needs Taemin, though. Jonghyun needs him.

_You’re going back to him, aren’t you? Go. GO. Maybe he’ll let you fuck him—_

“I’m not a man to him, either. He has someone else for that, he has someone he likes.”

_Hyung is a man, though?_

Jonghyun’s going blind again, crying his eyes out. Shut up Jonghyun-ah, who are you even talking to. Turn the radio on.

Shut up.

He has to. He has to stop it. _Stop._

“Don’t worry. If I was, if it were me, I think I’d—”

No, really. Red light. Intersection. His. How did he get here?

_—what?_

Straight, or right. Home, or the dorm. His room or theirs. Jonghyun or Jonghyun. Alone or alone.

_It’s better when you’re with them, right?_

_What is, Taeminnie?_

He’d what.

Jonghyun turns his blinker on.

 

Taemin gets up to pee around three. Jonghyun listens to his footsteps like he’s spent the last two hours listening to his breathing, doesn’t tell him the bathroom’s too far away, the silence is too loud. He was asleep already when Jonghyun got here, he probably doesn’t even realize he’s here. He probably won’t for another few hours, until his alarm goes off. Jonghyun has all the time in the world to think of an excuse, but it’s not like he needs one. If he says Dahae kicked him out it won’t be anything new. He doesn’t even need to say it, and Taemin will think it.

Jonghyun’s not out of tears, somehow.

“Hyung?”

Jonghyun’s heart stops. Taemin’s footsteps don’t.

_I’m asleep. I’m okay. Everything’s okay. Go back to sleep. Don’t come over here. Don’t check on me._

_Please, Taeminnie._

The mattress dips. Taemin’s warm and solid, knee pressing into Jonghyun’s back. Jonghyun squeezes his eyes shut so tight it hurts, puts everything into breathing like normal, because if Jonghyun knows every single thing about Taemin, his every tell, Taemin knows every single thing about Jonghyun, too.

His every tell.

Taemin’s hand lands in Jonghyun’s hair, stroking it back from his face, clumsy with sleep, so small and warm, so gentle it hurts. It all hurts. The thing from before is back, fighting its way out of his chest, up his throat. Jonghyun struggles with it, with himself, but he has to breathe, and it comes out as a sob.

Taemin pauses, hesitates, then picks up again like nothing happened, even gentler than before. Nothing has. Jonghyun got himself home this time and he didn’t drink and he’s not drunk, but here they are anyway, at the end of the same night they’ve had all year. And all that means right now, all that’s ever meant, is that Jonghyun’s not alone.

Jonghyun fumbles for Taemin’s hand. Taemin stiffens, surprised, then relaxes in Jonghyun’s grip, then squeezes his fingers. Then accuses him, smile in his voice, “You scared me, you gave me a heart attack. Next time just wake me up, okay? Even if it’s not to come get you, even if it’s you and not my phone, it’s okay.” All Jonghyun can do is cry harder. Taemin hesitates, then says, more softly, “I’m here, hyung.”

Jonghyun leaves himself in Taemin’s hands, in his hair, curled around Jonghyun’s, and lets everything inside him out, into his pillow, into the dark. Taemin is holding onto him. Taemin is here. Taemin will know how to put him back together. Taemin’s the only one who knows _him._

Taemin loves him back. Taemin loves him.

Taemin.


	6. Chapter 6

“Where are we going?”

“SM.”

Taemin guessed that much, but he’s the one who asked. So he asks again. “No meetings, right?”

“No meetings,” Yongdeok hyung confirms. “Coordis. They want to check everything still fits.” He wasn’t there when Taemin weighed himself last night, but he sees it all in his face. “It’s not that bad, Taemin-ah. Just half an hour, and then the rest of the day is practice.”

Taemin only just finished recording his album, and now somehow it’s August. He’s got today and tomorrow until he pre-records his debut stage, another week before SM Town. He’s out of time.

“What day is my hair?”

“I’ll check.” That’s Yongdeok hyung for _I have no fucking clue._ “Ah. How many copies of _Ace_ do you want? They said to ask you.”

How many is too many?

“My parents, hyung…Jonghyunnie hyung,” at his name Taemin’s heart skips a beat, and he trips over it to add the others, “Jinki hyung, Minho hyung, Kibummie hyung…Jonginnie…” Taemin’s okay. He didn’t say anything weird. “Do you want one?”

Yongdeok hyung smiles. “I can pay, it’s okay. I’ve been making money off you this whole time, now you can make some off me.”

It’s not like SM pays either of them much, and _Ace_ isn’t Yongdeok hyung’s kind of music, anyway. He’s still stuck on Boohwal and 015B and whenever he thinks Taemin’s too tired to call him on it, Fin.K.L and Lee Hyori.

“I’ll sign it and you can sell it. I’m worth a lot~”

It’s supposed to be funny, Yongdeok hyung is supposed to laugh, but he clicks his tongue instead. Shakes his head. Says, “Aigoo. If I was going to do stuff like that I’d just sell your info.”

Did he think Taemin was talking down to him? He doesn’t look like he cares.

“Jonginnie’s manager had to quit SNS because they started following him to follow them around all day.”

Of all the things Taemin could’ve said, that was probably the worst one. Yongdeok hyung just shakes his head again. “Because this is so exciting? Aigoo, aigoo, aigoo.”

“Don’t worry,” Taemin goes on, because what if Yongdeok hyung thinks he’s trying to tell him something now? “People follow Shinee around sometimes but no one’s ever followed me.”

“I don’t do SNS, Taemin-ah,” Yongdeok hyung says.

“Me neither.”

It’s the truth, he doesn’t, it’s not funny unless Taemin’s the joke, but Yongdeok hyung finally cracks a smile. “I have an excuse, I’m old. Do you even go online?”

“I guess you don’t? It’s no good right now, hyung.” Taemin leans against his window. When he stares out at Seoul it doesn’t stare back, drowsing in the half-light. At least one of them gets to sleep. “SM announced I’m going first.”

“So?”

“It shouldn’t be me. Jinki hyung had his surgery, but Jonghyunnie hyung…”

Yongdeok hyung leans into Taemin’s silence and says, “It’s your career, Taemin-ah,” like that’s it, that’s all there is to it. He eyes Taemin, weighing his words. “There’s no should. You’re not taking anything from anyone else.”

_Lee Sooman always plays favorites, this is nothing new. First the maknae stole their lines and now he’s cutting ahead of them. Did anybody teach this kid manners? Forget that, did anyone teach him how to sing? No one cared when it was Kibum oppa, but now that it’s Jonghyun oppa and Jinki oppa you want to make a big deal? What bullshit. Please give Jonghyun oppa his solo. Let him debut. He’s earned it. Jonghyun oppa! We’ll support you, since SM won’t._

Keeping his eyes off Yongdeok hyung’s face, Taemin says, “Has SM said anything to you? About where they’re putting you when I’m done?”

“Let’s just get through the next month, okay?”

Taemin can shut up now, but instead he’s saying, “The company said they’d let hyung know at the end of last month.”

“Whatever they tell me I tell you. He’ll hear from them before I do, they don’t think that far ahead, and anyway. This whole year, everything that could go wrong has. Everything besides you.” Yongdeok hyung reaches over and pets Taemin’s head, sudden, clumsy. “Let’s keep it that way.”

 

“Taemin-ah. Taeminnie, are you sleeping?”

Taemin keeps his face buried in his pillow.

“Yeah.”

Jonghyun laughs softly. “You left the light on.” He pats Taemin’s butt. “Don’t get up, I’ll get it.”

“Good.” Footsteps, and then Taemin’s world blinks out, red to black, but he’s still here. Jonghyun too, for the first time in forever. “Are you coming back from Blue Night, or are you going now?”

If Taemin doesn’t roll over and open his eyes right now, who knows how long it will be before he sees him again. He finds Jonghyun standing over him again, sweatpants and wet hair.

“It’s two thirty now. What time do you have to get up?” Jonghyun says, then follows that up with, “Don’t think about it, just go back to sleep,” of all things. And Jonghyun’s the one who said it, but he goes back on it right away, biting his lip, staring down at Taemin. “When did you get back?”

“I don’t know.”

It’s the truth, but Jonghyun’s eyes narrow. “It was after midnight, I know that much.” All Taemin has to do is smile up at him and he smiles back in spite himself, smoothing his hand over Taemin’s hair and heading for his own bed. He’s so easy. “You were gone when I woke up this morning, too. Sleep, Taeminnie.”

“When I’m done with promotions I’m going to, for five million years.”

Jonghyun’s smile disappears in his shirt, line of his shoulders, play of his muscles, firm smooth skin for days and days. Taemin hasn’t stopped staring by the time Jonghyun meets his eyes again, and then he goes for his pants. Hair a mess, fingers hooked in his sweats, no underwear, he says to Taemin like Taemin can’t see everything, _everything,_ “That’s no good. What am I supposed to do without you?”

Taemin squeezes his eyes shut so hard it hurts, until all he’s left with are Jonghyun’s words, and all he wants to say back is, _What about me, how am I supposed to survive on my own? I have to do all the talking and all the singing, I have to go out there and win somehow, and then I have to come home to you. To_ this.

Jonghyun gets most of that. “You’ll be fine, Taemin-ah. It’s nothing you haven’t done before. You can do this.”

“I know I will. I know I can. I’ll get all the money and all the love.” Taemin says it without thinking, and he doesn’t now, just rushes on, “I’ll have to buy you food for once. Start thinking of what you want.”

He takes a peek and Jonghyun catches him right away, weird half-smile splitting his face. “I am. I have been.” He says it so quietly his words are almost lost in the rustle of his blanket. “Did you lose your phone today?” And then, so fast Taemin almost misses it, “Never mind.”

“It died.” That’s as much as Taemin’s going to say, but it should be enough for Jonghyun to hear what he wants. _I’m okay. I didn’t look online._ Still… “Did you text me, or something?”

Jonghyun’s been home every day for the last two weeks, no nights at Dahae’s, no more tears, no more phone calls, no more saying her name, nothing, ever since the night he came home with a cut on his cheek and cried himself to sleep. Jinki says he’s driving him crazy, but what would he know. He’s not the one Jonghyun texts twenty-four seven, he’s not the one Jonghyun looks after, he’s not the one Jonghyun wakes up when he comes home, then talks to until they fall asleep. He’s not the one who thinks about these things every single day, about _Jonghyun,_ every single minute the rest of his life leaves him alone. Even when it doesn’t, sometimes. Even when he’s busy, even when he’s working, even when he’s got his future, his entire life in his hands, and he needs to focus or else. Even then.

Taemin is so stupid.

“Did you miss me at all, when you moved out?” Jonghyun says.

“We saw each other every day, though? And I slept at home all the time when I lived here, anyway.”

“I missed you,” Jonghyun replies, put out. “I forgot what it was like, not seeing you. Are you going back to your parents after this?”

Should Taemin stay here forever, then? He pulls his blanket up to his chin and wishes he could pull it over his head. Wishes the thermostat wasn’t lying to him when it said it was seventy degrees in here instead of seventy million.

“When I turn 30 I’m getting my own house.”

For the longest time Jonghyun has nothing to say to that, until suddenly he does. “I couldn’t sleep without you.”

“You can’t sleep with me, either.” This is why Taemin should think before he talks. This is why Jonghyun should let him. Jonghyun makes a low, amused sound, hot under Taemin’s skin. He has to do something about that. Shut up or sleep or say, “How was work?”

“Fine.”

“Heeyeon-ssi?”

“Fine.”

Taemin fights with himself in the dark. “You?”

Jonghyun doesn’t make him wait. “I’m fine, Taeminnie.” There’s a smile in his voice as he goes on, “She wants to get close with you, she’s jealous I’ll get you all to myself~”

Heeyeon. Blue Night. The eighteenth. An hour alone with Jonghyun, talking about music, his album, his life, him. Jonghyun never even asked him if he would, just asked him when. _You’re doing my show first, right?_ And then, all in a rush, _I know I said no Shinee, but you won’t be Shinee’s Taemin. Just be yourself._ And then, biting his lip, hesitating, like Taemin might hate it, _You have a lot to say, Taemin-ah. Use Blue Night. Use me._

Taemin just hates radio, period. If Jonghyun thinks Taemin could hate him, or tell him no, Taemin doesn’t know what he’ll do with him.

“Go Youngbae keeps begging me to introduce him to you, too,” Jonghyun says now. “You remember, I told you about him. He likes you, he’s crazy about you.” Jonghyun gives Taemin two seconds to reply normally, then rushes to tell him, “Not like that. He’s married.”

Taemin didn’t take it the wrong way, unlike some people. But moving on, “Is Blue Night my fan club?”

“I’m the president.”

Dead end. Taemin’s not touching that one. Touching Jonghyun.

“It’s not about meeting new people, I’m okay with that. It’s just I won’t know what to say.”

“You talk to me about music all the time. You’ve talked to me about your album—” Jonghyun corrects himself. “About _Ace_ so many times.”

They only named it a week and a half ago, Taemin and Creative’s task force. Every option they gave him was on-brand, focus-group-tested, and Deep, but that was the only one that meant anything to Taemin. He’d just spent seven hours straight recording "Ace." It was one of the first demos SM showed him and the last song to come together. If it weren’t for “Pretty Boy” and Jonghyun, it would be his favorite. He likes chill songs, he likes how they hit his body, slow burn, limbs like water. He likes being able to breathe while he sings. He likes Changmin hyung.

“That’s different, that’s you,” Taemin tells him, instead of saying any of that out loud.

It wouldn’t matter if he had, because Jonghyun doesn’t care if he sounds stupid or flubs terminology. He doesn’t look at Taemin and see someone who sits there and looks pretty, takes what people give him and does whatever he’s told.

“It’ll be hyung then, too,” Jonghyun says. “We can speak comfortably, if you’d rather. I always forget and call you Taeminnie anyway.”

Taemin’s heart skips a beat all on its own. “You talk about me?”

“Mm.”

“You don’t say anything weird?” That’s useless. Jonghyun wouldn’t know what to tell him, and anyway, “Never mind. If you had Minho hyung would’ve told me.”

“You two talk about me?” Jonghyun says back, a little too fast.

“Mm. Nothing weird.” But maybe that was, maybe Taemin’s been saying weird things all night. “It’s so boring working out. I don’t know how you did it for so long. He keeps talking the whole time, too, he’s not human, he doesn’t need oxygen.”

When Taemin checks on Jonghyun he finds him staring, unblinking, cheek smushed against his pillow, tiniest smile.

“You would’ve been better off with me. I need to get back in shape, anyway.”

“You need to sleep, hyung.” And the last thing Taemin needs is seeing Jonghyun hot and sweaty every morning, or getting hot and sweaty and gross in front of him, let alone showering together. Right now is bad enough, face on fire, voice so far ahead of him. “Besides, you’re too—”

Before he can finish that thought Jonghyun jumps in and saves him. “Too what? Nice to you?” Taemin can hear his smile. “He doesn’t get you like I do, Taeminnie. There’s no point being hard on you, you just do whatever you want anyway.” And just like that, Taemin’s done with this. Taemin never does what he wants. Jonghyun is hard on him. He’s not doing what he wants right now, curling his fingers into his blanket instead of spreading them out over Jonghyun’s skin. Biting his tongue instead of sticking it in Jonghyun’s mouth or telling him, _Be mean to me. Make me hate you. Make me wake up._ “Are you going to sleep on me? Taemin-ah?”

“You told me to.”

Taemin twists around onto his other side. Flops on his back. Kicks his blanket half off. Counts his breaths. Counts Jonghyun’s.

“You can’t, right?” Jonghyun says finally. “Do you want hyung to hold you?”

What? No. “You’re naked.”

Right away there are a million things fighting up his throat, because was that weird, but when he looks at Jonghyun, Jonghyun just looks back, tiniest smirk on his lips. It’s not even a retort when he points out, “So are you.” Which, yes Taemin is. Taemin wrenches his blanket back up, rolling himself into a cocoon, but Jonghyun’s still there when he’s done, watching him, and now there’s this look on his face, too. “Taemin-ah…if those people loved me, they would love you. Your happiness is mine.”

That again. Maybe Taemin should tell him, _I know how they feel. I love you but I don’t like Hong Dahae. I don’t even want to try._ Maybe he should tell him anything besides, _Tell me you broke up. Tell me you’re better off on your own, tell me you won’t go back this time. Tell me you’re done letting her hurt you. I know it was her._ Maybe he would, if his heart weren’t in the way, stealing his voice, his breath.

“I know.”

_Are you happy? Are you okay?_

Jonghyun’s watching his face, so Taemin gives him a smile. Jonghyun smiles back.

“If I told them that it would make it worse, right? I can’t do anything for you. Hyung is useless.”

“They don’t know you, hyung,” Taemin says. “They don’t know me, either. It’s just stupid, it’s the same shit all the time. Remember when they said Jinki hyung beat you up? And they wanted to kick you and me out after Internet War, they thought it was real or something.”

Jonghyun takes that in, says back, “It was, for me.”

It’s real for Taemin right now too, Jonghyun pulling his hair, snarling into his face, hard against his thigh, lighting Taemin’s ears on fire, tightening his stomach, making his legs weak. And making him stupid, so stupid. He’s lucky that was years ago, he’s lucky he was smarter back then.

“I just meant I can handle it,” Taemin says into his pillow.

“I know you can. You shouldn’t have to,” Jonghyun says, so gently, but that’s all. Taemin just has to lie here and wait for his day to catch up to him. He’s so goddamn tired, it should be so easy to ignore Jonghyun, the one in his head, painted across his eyelids, and the one saying, “Taemin-ah. Taemin-ah~”

“What, hyung?”

“Nothing.”

Taemin’s not going to look. He’s going to sleep.

“What’s nothing?”

“Sleep well,” Jonghyun says. Five seconds’ silence, then, “Aren’t you going to say it back? My body won’t listen to me, I’ll be stuck lying here for hours. It’ll listen to you, Taeminnie.”

Taemin doesn’t burn hotter, his dick isn’t stirring, it isn’t taking everything he has just to lie there and wait for it all to go away, he’s not this close to getting up and going to the bathroom and making it, and he won’t come with Jonghyun’s name in his mouth, teeth sinking into his hand.

“Sleep well.”

Taemin won’t.

 

He doesn’t, but he still gets up when his alarm tells him to. He checks on Jonghyun when his heart tells him, which is a mistake, because Jonghyun’s lying there on his stomach with his blanket pooled around his waist, mouth half-open, hair in his face. And then he tears his eyes away, makes it to the shower, and follows Minho out into the growing light like his head tells him. Squats when Minho tells him. Crunches. Another set. Another set. One more. You said that last time. One more, Taemin-ah. You can do it, come on. Think of our fans.

And it’s arm day, too. Yay. Taemin only ever gets away with skipping his legs.

“Maybe I shouldn’t work out this hard.” Now Minho tells him. He glances at Taemin, one machine over and like a hundred pounds higher. “I keep thinking about myself. I should be thinking about the character more. He’s a lot smarter than me, or at least he thinks he is, he’s studying to go to med school. But exercise helps clear your mind, right? And everyone on TV looks too good anyway, and it’s not like I’d have shirtless scenes, I wouldn’t be the lead…What do you think, Taemin-ah?”

That he needs to breathe. That he would rather be in bed right now, torturing himself with Jonghyun’s nude scene instead. That he’d rather be at practice, spending all this energy on something useful. But if he talks he gets to take a break, so.

“Anyone can get a gym membership,” Taemin says. Minho nods and grins, like that’s it, that’s what he thought, but Taemin’s just waiting for the breath to finish that thought. “Most people don’t have one.”

Minho frowns at him. “That doesn’t make any sense, Taemin-ah. That’s like saying no one who’s single wants to have someone.”

Whatever.

“We weren’t talking about want, though.”

“Don’t get lazy on me, Taeminnie,” Minho goes on as though Taemin didn’t say anything. Is he talking about right now? Taemin grits his teeth against the burn in his muscles and starts the next set. “I don’t know if I can keep this up by myself.”

Too bad. As soon as SM Town is over, Taemin is done with this place. It’s too much work to be mean to Minho, though. “Ask Jonghyunnie hyung, he keeps saying he wants his abs back.”

Never mind Taemin’s sanity.

“Our schedules don’t overlap at all. Be honest, Taemin-ah, that’s why you asked me, not him, right?”

“No.”

He’s not even lying, not even close, but Minho frowns at him again, blowing air through his teeth. “It’s okay, as long as I’m second best.” His mouth twitches, reading Taemin’s face. “Third? Fourth?”

“Fifth, counting Taemin~” Taemin says.

“I was asking about hyungs, not biases, but whatever,” Minho huffs. “If it were any of the others you’d tell them the same thing, you think I don’t know that? Except for Jonghyunnie hyung.”

“He’s too easy.”

Taemin is allowed to fuck with every single part of Jonghyun, his wallet, his height, his things, his thoughts, his feelings, his tears, everything besides his place in Taemin’s life. That’s how it’s always been, back when Taemin’s mom would ask Jonghyun to look after Taemin, and now that Taemin can’t look at anyone else. And if this feeling ever goes away, if Taemin ever starts to make sense again, Jonghyun hyung will still be there.

“Yeah,” Minho agrees. Then, in this weird voice, the one that means _I have no idea how to bring this up,_ “Taemin-ah.”

Taemin keeps going. Breathe out, breathe in. Eleven. In, out. Twelve. But then his muscles give out and his weights crash onto the bench and all he can think to say is, “You’re easy, too.”

“Taemin-ah—”

“I was just being stupid, hyung,” Taemin says quickly.

“I know, I’m not mad. It’s not about me.”

And that’s Minho’s _I don’t know how to make this sound less bad_ voice. Great. Taemin’s stuck. He has to ask. “Jonghyunnie hyung?”

Minho doesn’t even have to say, “Yeah.” It’s all over his face.

And just like that, “I don’t know anything, I already said,” comes rushing out of Taemin. “He just came home like that, he didn’t want to talk about it. I can’t make him.”

He knows it was her. The scratch on Jonghyun’s cheek.

Minho’s mouth presses into a thin line, and then of all things he says, “So you don’t know if they’re broken up?”

“No, why?”

“You can’t tell him.”

“Tell him what? Is it bad? If it’s bad he needs to know.”

“He doesn’t want to, last time she did it, I told him and he hated me.”

Taemin thinks about picking his weights up again. Putting everything he has into controlling his breathing. Getting up and showering early.

He can’t move.

“With her costar?” he says.

Minho’s face falls open. “How do you know about that?”

“Is she cheating on him again?”

“Taemin-ah—”

“Tell me, hyung.”

Silence. Then, all in a rush:

“She went on a marriage meeting, I heard about it from a friend, last week.”

Oh.

“How do you know he doesn’t know?” Taemin says. “He’s the one who told me, last time.”

“He doesn’t want to know, Taeminnie,” Minho says, like Taemin doesn’t know that inside out and back to front and upside down. But want or not, that doesn’t mean Jonghyun doesn’t. He’s not stupid. “If he did, that means he’d have to see the real her. And then it’d really be over, and he’d be alone.”

_You think love is smart?_

“I don’t know that it’s not over. It’s been weeks since the last time he saw her, and he never talks about her. And he’s not alone. He has me,” and so what, Jonghyun does, always, but Taemin trips over himself to fix it, “he has us.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Minho releases his machine with a clang, reaching over to pinch Taemin’s cheek. “We’re talking about Jonghyunnie hyung, though. He thinks being happy means being in love.”

“It’s not that, either. He has bad taste, and then he doesn’t want to admit he was wrong about them.”

The words taste sour and Minho’s laugh is too loud, too easy. “Taemin-ah~”

“He believes in them no matter how stupid it makes him look, that’s what he thinks being in love means,” Taemin says. “It doesn’t matter how they treat him. It doesn’t even matter if they love him back.”

“Relationships are commitments, Taeminnie,” Minho says, almost like he’s reasoning with him or something. “And being in love makes you blind, that’s kind of how it works.”

“He knows what she is, hyung. Hong Dahae. He knows.” It’s out there, Taemin said it, and it’s not like Minho’s going to do anything about it. He hates her, too. “Do they get less pretty when he breaks up with them? Never mind. They always break up with him. Maybe she did this time.”

Maybe.

Minho nudges Taemin’s foot with his own, then nudges him again. Then takes him by the shoulders and helps him up, because it’s time to swap machines, because they’re supposed to be working out, because that’s what you do at the gym. Taemin left his brain and his heart behind in their room, but his muscles are here.

Except they’re still talking about it. “I won’t tell you he can take care of himself, because he can’t. But talking about him behind his back doesn’t help him, either.”

Taemin doesn’t look up from adjusting the weights.

“Then why did you tell me? You’re the one who told me. What am I supposed to do about it?”

“Just…be there for him?” When Taemin runs out of time to waste, sits down and starts up again, Minho shoots Taemin a smile, breathing even, movements clean. “That’s what I’ve been doing. It’s okay if he doesn’t notice. It’s probably better that way, or he’ll try harder to pretend everything’s fine.”

Taemin can’t smile back.

“I never see him as it is, but when promotions start…”

“Speaking of which, when are you recording your debut stage?” Minho says.

Who cares about that right now?

…Taemin should. “Tomorrow.”

“What, already? What time?”

“Late. You don’t have to come, hyung,” Taemin says, but Minho already knows that.

“I get that the company picked Music Bank, but wait to win until you go on Music Core, got it? Hyung wants to announce it~”

If Taemin wins. If he gets out of here alive. If Jonghyun could get out his head for two seconds. If, if, if. If…

“They might’ve broken up already, for all we know.”

“They have, five million times,” Minho tells him, because yeah. He said it out loud. He keeps saying this stuff out loud. When he sneaks a glance at Minho, Minho doesn’t tell him his ears are red or he needs to pace himself, control his breathing, just asks, “Look at you go~. Is it getting too light, should we add more weight next time?”

Does that mean Taemin is getting stronger?

Same thing.

 

He can do this.

He’s done it six million times away from the cameras, maybe one million times in front of them for his MV, and he’ll do it another six million times, music show to music show to music show. He was just out there, pearl aqua ocean, his name, laughter, screams, A Camera, B Camera, bbum-bbum-bbum-bbum-bbum bbum-bbum bbum-bbum-bbum-bbum-bbum.

“Five minutes, Taemin-ah.”

He can do this.

He doesn’t have to sing today. Just lip-syncing. Just faking it. There’s no point fighting SM until the first week is over, and then he’ll have to fight them alone, without Jinki, without _Jonghyun,_ but focus. Focus.

He can do this.

He’s just getting started. So what if he can’t win on his own, so what if he can’t win first time out. So what if no one buys his album, if no one votes for him, if he’s as alone as he feels right now—

His phone buzzes off the counter and into his hands. The only reason it doesn’t slip out and shatter on the floor is because he wiped them on his pants just now.

_taeminnie fighting!_

_u can do this._

Taemin breathes deep.

_cant wait for tv. tell yongdeok hyung to record it on his phone~_

“Don’t smile, Taemin-ah. I need to do your lips.”

“What about the belt?”

“Don’t _talk,”_ Coordi noona says, exasperated. She can’t stay mad at him, though. She never can. “It didn’t fall, so it should be okay.”

“It felt like it would the whole time.”

It’s okay. If he trips over it he’ll get another take. He’s an SM idol.

“You lost weight,” another noona accuses him, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “Your thighs are already better than mine.”

This is the part where Taemin would say, _Is being pretty a crime~?_ Except those would be his last words, and his silence is getting longer and longer, harder and harder to break.

 _vrrrt._ Jonghyun.

_ur the best. hyung is so proud of u_

Yep, no more talking. His voice is like a rock in his stomach.

“They want Taeminnie. Is he good to go?”

Yongdeok hyung.

As good as he’ll ever be. When Taemin gets to his feet the coordi noona follows him with a brush.

“Phone, Taemin-ah,” Yongdeok says.

Wait a second.

_ill see u at home_

Okay. Taemin has no words for typing either, fingers clumsy, useless. Whatever. Jonghyun said it. He’ll see him at home. Time will start again. Yongdeok hyung takes his phone from him, takes Jonghyun away, claps Taemin on the back, ushers him back under the lights.

Three minutes and thirteen seconds.

He can do this.

Taemin fixes his hair, his tie, his jacket, comes away with glittery fingers and Coordi noona glaring at him from across the stage. Swallows. Adjusts his mic, even though who cares. Lip-syncing. Breathes. Lives and dies.

“Three, two, one.”

_Go._

 

Yongdeok hyung gets behind the wheel and winds his way down the parking garage, round and round, before he checks with Taemin to see which blinker he should turn on. “Home?”

One thing at a time. Nod. Seatbelt. Window down. Taemin doesn’t know if he’ll ever sleep again or if he could sleep for two hundred years, just that he’s crashing. Hard. Yongdeok hyung laughs, shakes his head, turns on the radio, flipping through channels, pop, prayer, politics, until—

“This is Blue Night’s Jonghyun.”

And then it’s not, it’s the next thing Yongdeok hyung finds, then the next. Taemin fumbles for the dial. Yongdeok hyung shoots him a look, probably because the first and last thing he’s ever told Taemin is Driver Picks the Music. “You don’t mind?”

Yongdeok hyung leaves it. “I just thought you would.”

“Why would I?”

“You work twenty hour days, and we’re at the end of one,” Yongdeok hyung points out, like it should be obvious. “He’s your coworker.”

He’s not wrong, but he’s not right, either. It’d take too long to explain to him all the reasons why, because that would mean explaining his whole life from May 25, 2008 on. From before that, even. He can’t remember when he first met Jonghyun. 2005. Fall. The bus. The practice room. “Incomplete.” Jonghyun looked so cool back then, and Taemin still doesn’t know any better.

“Hyung is hyung.”

Like Taemin didn’t say anything, Yongdeok hyung goes on, “Don’t forget we have tomorrow off. Don’t set your alarm, and don’t call me, either,” but who cares about that, because—

“Because the song is named ‘Pretty Boy,’” Jonghyun says, which, _what,_ “so many people thought it must be cute, but there is absolutely nothing cute about it.”

“‘Pretty Boy?’” Yongdeok hyung glances at Taemin. “Isn’t that your song?”

“I do like the lyrics a lot. I wrote them so I like them,” Jonghyun goes on. He laughs at his own joke, so it’s okay if Taemin doesn’t. He can’t fight the smile that comes to his face, though, just hides it behind his fist, staring out the window. “To be surrounded with rumors, meddling, stress. To escape from these things. It is what these lyrics are about. Just, a song about gender roles, and about the bias against idols. Image. I did want to talk about the bad things…I just borrowed Taeminnie’s image for a while. I talked to Taeminnie—I talked with Taemin-goon, and asked him, what do you want to say?”

“Is he saying he played it? Did you know about this? Did SM?”

What is Yongdeok hyung so worried about?

“He won’t get in trouble. He never does.”

“As long as we don’t. Whatever. They wouldn’t have gone through you, which means nobody asked me. Right?”

“He’ll take responsibility if it’s a problem, don’t worry,” Taemin says. Hesitates, because Yongdeok hyung might be going crazy inside. He gets as little sleep as Taemin, and he’s the one who has to do all the thinking. “It won’t be, is what I meant.”

Anyway…

“And there are many people who say Taeminnie is delicate. That he’s feminine. I wanted to raise my voice against that. Taeminnie, Taemin-goon is a sangnamja.” Jonghyun laughs again, stupid, awkward, breathless, like butterflies in Taemin’s stomach, but the fun’s over in the next heartbeat. “He has perseverance, he’s that kind of kid. I’ve known him for so long, we’ve walked through life together, and now he’s debuting. Staying by his side, talking with him, watching how hard he’s worked…I felt his sincerity. This is Taeminnie’s music.”

Taemin squeezes his eyes shut. Feels the night air on his face. Prays Yongdeok hyung doesn’t make him talk until he can again.

Jonghyun won’t stop. “917-nim says, ‘I heard a very familiar voice and it was Taemin-goon. Are you promoting for your member?’ Yes! I am promoting! We’ve listened to ‘Pretty Boy’ twice now. It sounds like you missed out, so make sure to search for it later~. Stream it…buy it...”

Twice? Is he kidding?

_Hyung…_

“943-nim says, ‘I heard Pretty Boy was released? I don’t know why I’m this late, why I had to be this late today of all days.’ You sound curious. Should I play a little for you~?” 1

“Pretty Boy” screams to life in a blare of horns, and then there are two Taemins, the one on the radio, singing his heart out, and the one with it stuck in his throat.

“Hyung, is it too late to turn around?”

Yongdeok hyung doesn’t do the math, just glances at Taemin again, then gets over into the turn lane. “MBC is closer than the dorm.”

Taemin braces himself as the van swings across traffic, then slumps back in his seat. He doesn’t recognize any of the things they pass, doesn’t understand why his stomach is doing U-turns now, why the air feels heavier and heavier on his skin. He rolls up his window. Sits through commercial after commercial, then changes the channel again. Breaks their rules, again.

“You can just drop me off. You don’t have to stick around.”

Yongdeok hyung smiles. Says, like he shouldn’t even have to, “I know.”

He shouldn’t. Taemin knows, too.

 

If Music Bank was still a zoo after midnight, MBC Radio is a ghost town. Taemin’s footsteps echo down the hallways and every corner he turns is more of the same, though maybe that’s because he keeps going in circles. The second time he ends up at Shim Shim Tapa an intern walks him to Blue Night herself, eyes nailed to the floor, two feet away from him, and he gives Blue Night’s PD a heart attack, peeking into the control room. Taemin remembers himself first, coming in, bowing, greeting him, and once he stops clutching his chest he clasps Taemin’s hand, pats his back, says, “I don’t know who’s told me more about you, Jonghyunnie or my niece. We played your song just now.”

“It’s hyung’s too, he wrote it,” Taemin blurts out. “The lyrics.” That’s not right either, and anyway, Jonghyun said so a million times on air. “Thank you, PD-nim.”

Should he bow again?

“Don’t thank me, I just do what I’m told,” PD-nim says, smiling, nodding towards the window. “You’re here to see him, right? Go on—right in there.” Taemin follows his eyes and finds Jonghyun. Stretching, yawning, combing his fingers through his hair, not the way he does when he’s on camera and he knows he looks like shit, as though he ever could, the way he does when he’s off, at the end of a shitty day, no reason to hide. “We’re on a commercial break, don’t worry.”

Oh. Right. PD-nim gives Taemin another pat, then a push, and now he’s got ten feet of carpet to figure out what he’s doing here, in case Jonghyun asks him to explain himself.

“When’s he coming on here?” a woman’s voice says. Jang Heeyeon. Nine. He’s heard her on the radio and seen her drunk out of her mind, but it feels like the first time, looking at her now.

“Taeminnie? The eighteenth.”

Taemin freezes with his hand on the doorknob.

“And you won’t let me download it to my phone? Come on. You never even told me you wrote him a song, and now you can’t shut up about it.”

“Buy his album.”

“Aigoo, you should tell me to listen to it.” Jonghyun laughs, and so does she. “I would anyway. It’s the same as buying yours, right?”

“Mm.” There’s a smile in Jonghyun’s voice. “Your photocard is mine, by the way.” And one on Taemin’s face. Jonghyun’s so stupid. “If I buy in bulk and it comes out, I don’t know how it’d look.”

So stupid.

Heeyeon thinks so, too. “Like a hyung supporting his dongsaeng?”

“To normal people, maybe,” Jonghyun says.

“Netizens?” Yes, but something in Jonghyun’s face makes Heeyeon guess again. “Akgaes? They’re mad he’s going first, huh.”

“Maybe they think I’m not going at all~.” Taemin’s heart sinks like a stone, but Jonghyun goes on like it was nothing. “It’s good he’s not a girl, or they’d say Lee Sooman sunsaengnim’s sponsoring him. He’s acting like he’s fine, so I get to act like I don’t know he’s not.” He sighs. “They’re blaming Taeminnie for my shit, but they’ll support him in the end.”

It’s not Jonghyun’s shit. It’s not his fault. It’s the company’s. Before Taemin can go in there and tell Jonghyun that, Heeyeon guesses, “Supporting him is supporting you.”

“It’s not that he’s worked hard—though he has, too hard. Just…” Jonghyun trails off, like it’s too hard to put Taemin into words. Which, Taemin knows the feeling, but there’s no way Jonghyun should, when he’s the only one who ever can. “He’s put everything he has into this, his heart, his body, his life, everything. He deserves to be loved.”

The assistant PD leans into the microphone. “Five minutes, Jonghyun-ssi, Heeyeon-ssi.”

Five minutes, Taemin-ah. It’s only Jonghyun.

He jerks the door open just as Heeyeon says, “You still haven’t heard back?” and freezes up again.

“I’m the least of their problems, it’s crazy right now. Sitting on Jinri’s—Sulli’s—thing is just making it worse. They already gave them Taeminnie, and now they’re rushing Red Velvet’s debut, too.” At her look he says, “The new girl group.”

She nods. Hesitates. “You want to go out for drinks after this?” Looks up, and sees Taemin in the doorway. “Never mind.”

“What, you don’t?” Jonghyun says, pulling his chair in, shuffling his script. “Why do I feel like I got rejected~?”

“I know when I can’t compete,” she huffs, but her smile gives her away. “Turn around.”

And then Jonghyun does, and this is the part where Taemin should say, _Three times, hyung?_ or _Filming ran late_ or _Be happy I’m not Minho,_ but instead he freezes up, trips over himself to say, “Sorry, I just thought. I just wanted to see before I came,” as Jonghyun smiles instead of laughing at him, climbing to his feet. “I can go if it’s weird.”

Jonghyun takes him from there, leaning around Taemin to close the door, and ushering him inside, fingers spread over the small of his back. Telling him, “Heeyeon-ssi’s making fun of hyung, not you. She likes to do that. How did your thing go?”

“It went.” Jonghyun gives him a look, but he doesn’t ask. And Taemin doesn’t have to, but he tries again. “I saw the tape, it looked good. Yongdeok hyung didn’t catch my mistakes, but maybe you will~”

Jonghyun laughs in his ear, says, “What are you talking about, mistakes? God Taem doesn’t make any~,” and Heeyeon smiles up at him.

“You can call me noona. Minho does, whenever he comes to visit,” Heeyeon says, eyes crinkling. Whenever he’s drunk Jonghyun does too, but Taemin thinks better of telling her that, especially once she goes on, “I feel as though we’ve met. Jonghyun-ssi talks about you so much.”

Jonghyun takes the words right out of Taemin’s mouth. “You have. How do you think you woke up at home all those times?”

“The food stall ahjumma knows your address,” Taemin says quickly. “The one from across the street.”

“You’re a worse drinker than me, if you can’t remember seeing him,” Jonghyun goes on heedlessly, pushing Taemin forward, pulling the chair next to his out for him. “Don’t pretend you don’t. Don’t be embarrassed, it’s too late. And it’s Taeminnie.”

Taemin drops into it, Jonghyun’s hand sliding up his spine, because that’s easier than figuring out if he’s going to live through this. If Jonghyun’s going to get him killed. Whenever Taemin puts her in taxis she swears and hits him in one breath, hugs him close and hangs on for dear life in the next, and now she’s sitting across the table from him, meeting his eyes like none of that ever happened. Like it’s no big deal if it did, right?

Jonghyun keeps a hand on Taemin and takes a seat next to him. Plays with the hair at the nape of his neck, fingertips brushing his skin. Plays with Taemin’s heart. Disconnects his brain.

He deserves it when Taemin turns on him. “You’re the one who’s always calling me and waking me up. I don’t have to carry her up the stairs, either.”

“Hyung is the worst,” Jonghyun agrees, narrowing his eyes at Taemin like he doesn’t, not at all, slipping his hand out of his hair to pinch his cheek.

“Definitely call me noona,” Heeyeon says. “Thanks for taking care of me, Taemin-ah. I’ll have to buy you food sometime.”

“I buy him food all the time. It won’t get you anywhere.”

She ignores Jonghyun for Taemin, smile widening. “What do you like?”

“Everything,” Jonghyun tells her, before Taemin can. His foot pushing into Taemin’s under the table says _Look at me._ He gives Taemin two seconds to do what he’s told, let himself look again, and then reaches for him again, fingers skimming his cheek as Taemin turns to him, awkward, sudden. “Did you listen on the way over?”

Taemin lets him tuck his hair behind his ear, doesn’t shrug him off or shrink away or anything weird. Just sits here and tries to decide if it’s too hot or too cold in here, too late or too early, if the things he can think to say are too little or too much.

“Did you even ask if it was okay to play it, hyung? I don’t care, but Yongdeok hyung was wondering. You always do whatever you want.”

Jonghyun’s mouth quirks. “Did he just leave you here?”

“Mm. I’m stuck with you.”

More like, _You’re stuck with me._

“Aigoo. You should’ve gone home.”

He’s right and Taemin knows it, and he’s just saying, and Taemin knows that too, but still. His stomach twists.

“It’s not like I made him work late. I just got out, I came from KBS.”

“I can tell.” Jonghyun hesitates, hand caught mid-air, and that’s all the warning Taemin gets before Jonghyun drags his thumb across Taemin’s lips. It comes away glistening and pink, because lip-gloss. Oh. Duh. “Your eyes are worse, you look like a water ghost. What did they do to you?” Taemin rubs at them on automatic and Jonghyun smiles like he can’t help it, clicks his tongue like Taemin should, taking his hand away, tangling their fingers together. “Figures you did it to yourself. Don’t let me forget when we get home.”

There’s no reason makeup removal and skincare should make Taemin’s whole body go hot, no reason why he can’t say, _It’s my face, hyung,_ but then, there’s no reason Jonghyun should be making him this crazy, after everything.

“Do you want to take my place for the rest, Taemin-ah?” Heeyeon says, because yeah. Other people besides Jonghyun exist. When he slips his hand out of Jonghyun’s grasp and drags his eyes off him she’s leaning back in her chair, looking between the two of them. “I don’t mind going home early~.”

Jonghyun saves him from answering, “There’s only twenty minutes left,” saves him from the hole opening in his stomach, because what if she’s not joking. “Only two before we’re back, you’re stuck. You have your phone, right, Taeminnie?”

Taemin pats his pockets, and…nothing. “Yongdeok hyung had it? I think?”

Jonghyun skips making fun of him, unlocking his own phone, handing it to Taemin. “PD-nim must have let you in, but I’ll introduce you on the way out. He’s nice, he’ll look after you.”

“You won’t?”

It just comes out of him, but it stays inside him, too, squirming in his stomach, squeezing his heart, rearranging his face, until he doesn’t know anything anymore. Just Jonghyun’s eyes widening, then narrowing, crinkling, his slow smile, his laughter, too late to be real. It catches in his throat, ragged, breathless.

He opens his mouth to reply and—

“One minute, Jonghyun-ssi.”

Either Jonghyun’s words get lost in his hoodie, wrestling it over his head and almost taking his shirt with it, or he’s saving them for later, pushing it into Taemin’s chest, then slipping his headphones on, leaning in to his mic, leaving Taemin behind. Taemin has all the time in the world to wait it out. This feeling. Jonghyun’s skin, soft and smooth and burned into Taemin’s brain, more of the same, more of what he wakes up to every single day. His thigh, pressed along Taemin’s. His voice in Taemin’s ear.

…His phone in Taemin’s hand. Phone, phone, phone.

The wifi’s too slow, and Taemin’s heart is too fast. Jongin. Jonghyun has his number, Taemin has to give it to him every time he gets a new phone, which is every time he leaves his old one somewhere or he wants to waste his money on something other than Taemin for once, or he breaks up with his girlfriend. He’s gone through three since he started dating Dahae. The last time was two weeks ago, and Jonghyun accused him, _You only have it memorized because you lose yours all the time,_ then hesitated. _Right?_ Like Taemin was supposed to make fun of himself next.

And then Taemin opens up Jonghyun’s contacts and it stops. His heart, his everything. Everything.

_Hong Dahae_

It shouldn’t. It’s nothing he didn’t know.

 

Taemin doesn’t feel tired until they get out to Jonghyun’s car, and Jonghyun takes ten million years to find his keys, patting down his pockets. He remembers Taemin’s wearing his hoodie before Taemin does, doesn’t bother telling him until he’s already crossed the car and reached for him. It’s too late to squirm away, Jonghyun’s hands everywhere, warm through to his skin, his foot between Taemin’s. His breath on Taemin’s lips. His face, washed in moonlight. His voice, telling Taemin, “You’ve had a long day.” He ruffles Taemin’s hair, pinches his cheek, and when he steps away, the feeling lingers. “Sleep. I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

And lingers.

“It’s not that bad, I don’t have to get up early tomorrow. Just to go to the gym.”

And then it’s three of them again, him and Jonghyun and Seoul. Taemin thinks about rolling his window down, but leans against it instead. Closes his eyes.

“You’re not hungry, are you?”

That’s an easy one. At least it should be. A month ago Taemin would’ve skipped ahead and decided what for, but now his stomach is in knots and his head is spinning with all the things he could say. Yes. No. If I eat before bed I’ll bloat. I don’t know if I could taste food right now.

He goes with the first safe thing, “Are you?” but then he ends up meaning it, sneaking a glance at Jonghyun. Jonghyun catches him in half a second, catches his eye.

Instead of answering, he says, “You look like you’ve lost weight.”

“So do you.” Next second he wishes he’d bit his tongue. But he said it, because he always says the wrong thing. So now he gets to live with it, watching Jonghyun’s face while Jonghyun watches the road. Fix it, somehow. “I have. I am. You can’t tell when I gain weight, but still, I thought I would. I’m working out and everything.”

“It’s stress,” Jonghyun says. He probably thinks Taemin doesn’t want to hear it, but the next thing he tries is even worse. “How much can you lift now?” He’ll probably start guessing next, start low and work his way up pound by pound, eyebrows climbing, mouth twitching, laughter burring under Taemin’s skin. But nope. “It’s only been a few weeks, Taemin-ah. Don’t up the weight too fast, you’ll hurt yourself.”

He’s so stupid.

“Ask Minho hyung. He’d know.”

Jonghyun’s mouth quirks, halfway between a smirk and a smile. “He cares, you mean?”

“Hyung.”

“Yeah, what?”

Taemin didn’t mean to say anything, he didn’t mean to open his mouth, turn from the window back to Jonghyun, watch him wait instead of coming up with something else. Anything but, _How come you don’t hate her?_

“What is it, Taemin-ah?” Jonghyun says.

 _Your girlfriend’s cheating on you._ “Nothing.” _I hate her. I hate you for not hating her._

“You’re being so weird today.”

_I hate myself the most._

Out of everything in Taemin’s head, that’s the one that would get him in trouble. It took Jonghyun forever to realize Taemin even could hate himself, and he’s spent all this time since trying to make him see the Taemin Jonghyun sees.

“You’re always calling me weird,” Taemin says. “That means I’m being normal, right?”

Jonghyun gives him a look, the one that says Taemin’s being difficult on purpose. “Weird for you.” If he reaches over and pinches Taemin’s cheek, maybe something would break. Maybe not. Maybe Taemin would lean into his touch, bend farther. Instead Jonghyun goes on, “Don’t be nervous about Blue Night. I’ll be there the whole time.” That’s _why._ “You can hold onto me if you need to. Hit me if I say something wrong.”

“It’s not that.”

It’s not, not right now at least, but Taemin’s less sure than ever, listening to himself.

“It is, but it’s everything else too, and everything else is ten times worse.” Jonghyun pauses, like he’s searching Taemin for some kind of tell. “That’s what you mean, right?”

“No.”

“Taemin-ah.” At Jonghyun’s voice Taemin’s heart stutters, stops. Starts again, too fast. Jonghyun waits so long, for Taemin to look him in the face probably, meet his eyes, give him some kind of sign he’s listening. Taemin’s waiting for things to make sense, for this night to end, for their street, Jonghyun’s parking spot, his bed, the glow of Jonghyun’s phone. Taemin’s alarm. “I won’t be there for the rest of it, so hold onto your phone. Don’t lose it. I won’t call if you promise to text me. If you don’t, I’ll text you, I’ll blow up your phone. And if you don’t answer me, I’ll come find you.”

And if he finds Taemin, then what?

When Taemin opens his mouth his heart doesn’t come out. “Do you want Yongdeok hyung’s number?”

“What would he know?” Jonghyun says, too fast. When he catches up to Taemin’s words, he sits on them, turns them over and over. And over, sucking on the inside of his cheek, checking his mirrors, checking on Taemin. And then he says it. “Don’t make me ask someone else. Not when it’s about you.”

“Then can I ask you something?” shoots out of Taemin.

One breath, one heart beat later, “You know you can.” Another and another, and, “Anything, Taeminnie.”

Instead of shutting up, before he can make himself, Taemin blurts out, “Did you and Dahae-ssi break up?” And now there’s no going back, nowhere to run or hide, no way out, no oxygen in here. Except Jonghyun is breathing just fine, it’s only Taemin who can’t. “I know you had a fight, hyung. You know I know.”

Jonghyun only needs a few seconds, and then he tells Taemin, “Then you know everything.”

Taemin doesn’t know anything. All he has is Jonghyun’s face right now, and Dahae’s name in his phone. The scratch on his cheek didn’t leave a scar. Taemin didn’t even have to go to the pharmacy for Jonghyun, just as far as the bathroom, and their mountain of skincare products.

Jonghyun’s face and Dahae’s name and this thing inside him, eating his stomach, ripping his nerves to shreds.

“But you didn’t break up?”

Another few seconds, and this time it’s, “I haven’t talked to her since.”

“Then you’re not broken up.”

“Should I call and ask her, see what she says?” Jonghyun snaps. “See if she even picks up?”

“I’m asking you. You said I could.”

Jonghyun takes a few seconds, just to tell Taemin, so gently it hurts, “And I’m telling you. It’s just, it’s complicated, Taeminnie.”

Taemin can shut up now. He can stop looking for the right words, _she doesn’t deserve you, hyung, she doesn’t make you happy, she doesn’t love you. She’s cheating on you,_ because Jonghyun doesn’t want to hear it. Not from him.

“If you don’t know you can just tell me that,” Taemin says. “You do with everything else.”

Jonghyun’s eyes snap to his face.

“Fine. I don’t know. I don’t know if we broke up or not, I don’t know if I’d take her back, I don’t know if she’d take me, I don’t know if it was love.” Jonghyun pauses, and Taemin’s stomach opens up. “I don’t know why you’re asking.”

“She went on a marriage meeting. Minho hyung said.”

There. He said it. He doesn’t know how to read Jonghyun’s expression, what he’s done to him, what to do with him now, if he should have chewed his tongue off instead, but he said it.

Jonghyun laughs. Strange, tight, breathless, forcing it, he’s laughing. Taemin’s not going to ask him what’s funny, because nothing is. Because if Taemin isn’t the joke, then Jonghyun himself is.

“It’s not cheating,” Jonghyun tells Taemin. Tells himself. “It’s like I said, Taeminnie. We’re taking a break.”

“I didn’t know.”

“It’s her parents, probably.” She hates them. Jonghyun says she hasn’t talked to them in forever. “Those things aren’t even dates, they’re business meetings.”

If she wants to have dinner with her own kind instead of Jonghyun and Taemin’s, fine. If she’d rather go out with the CEO of Boring and Rich than Shinee’s Jonghyun, if she’d rather marry her parents’ perfect son-in-law than date Taemin’s Jonghyun hyung, whatever, Jonghyun’s too good for her anyway. But if she breaks his heart…

“If you don’t care, I don’t either.” It takes so much out of Taemin just to say it, and the rest of what’s inside him to keep looking at Jonghyun. “As long as you don’t.”

Jonghyun looks away first, goes back to the road. Reaches for Taemin, passing his hand over his hair, brushing his knuckles across Taemin’s cheek, clumsy, blind.

“Was that ‘nothing’ before?”

“Mm.”

“How did Minho find out?” Jonghyun says, too casually.

“I don’t know.” It’s the truth, but it’s no good, so Taemin takes mercy on Jonghyun, takes a guess. “His actor friends. I don’t know which ones.” Is Taemin throwing Minho under the bus, is that what this is? In a rush, he adds, “He didn’t mean to tell me, it just kinda came out. He can’t keep that stuff in.”

If Jonghyun gets mad at someone, he can get mad at Taemin.

He’s trying so hard not to. “He had to tell somebody, so he told you? Not me?”

“He said you hated him when he told you she kissed—” Taemin bites his tongue so hard he tastes blood. “That time.”

Silence. Then, “You really do know everything. That, too?”

“You’re the one who told me.”

It’s out of Taemin’s mouth before he can think. And then he does, and that’s all he can take for a while, staring at his knees, white noise for a brain, insides crushing in on themselves, because Jonghyun probably doesn’t remember, because he was drunk, because Dahae. Because Taemin should shut up. He’s being so stupid right now. So stupid. Selfish.

Instead of _I don’t want to talk about it_ or _Don’t make me. I never make you_ or _Don’t talk about stuff you don’t understand, Taemin-ah,_ Jonghyun says, “Why do you care?”

The car coasts to a stop. Red light.

“I said I don’t if you—”

“And I said I don’t,” Jonghyun cuts in, eyes burning into Taemin’s face, under his skin. “Why are you telling me, then?”

“I don’t know.”

“Taemin-ah, look at me.”

“I’m not lying, I don’t.” He is. “I didn’t know if you did.” Better. “I’ll shut up now.”

Should he lie again, say he’s sorry?

“Taemin-ah—”

“It’s you, hyung,” Taemin bursts out, rounding on him. “What would you do if it were me?”

Jonghyun’s face falls open, then shutters, mouth twisting, eyes darkening.

“It’s never going to be you, Taemin-ah,” he says roughly. “I wouldn’t let you date someone like that. Wait for the right guy, okay? Or I don’t know what I’ll do with you. With _him.”_

“You just said it wasn’t a big deal, hyung. You just said it wasn’t cheating.” Jonghyun opens his mouth again, probably to tell him, _That’s me. You’re not me,_ and maybe Taemin snaps. “If you can’t help who you love, how am I supposed to?”

_What am I supposed to do with you?_

The question cuts off his air, shoves him to the edge, one word from crying or laughing, shouldering his way out the door, across traffic. But then the light turns green, car horns instead of Jonghyun calling after him, _Taemin-ah, what,_ and time starts again, just like normal.

Maybe Jonghyun will pinch Taemin again, say, _Aigoo. Last month you liked someone, now you love him?_ Normal.

“Then you are in love?” he says. “I didn’t say I loved her, Taeminnie, I said I didn’t know.” He’s the one dating her. “You love this guy?”

Taemin leans against his window, draws his hands into his sleeves. Everything he would do if his heart weren’t beating out of his chest, so fast, so hard he doesn’t know if his ribs will break. If it will. “Mm.”

“Whoever he is.”

“Why are we even talking about this?” _Why are we talking about me? We never talk about you._ “I’m not gonna do anything. I said I wouldn’t.”

Jonghyun doesn’t let it go. “He doesn’t love you back?”

“Not like that.”

“How do you know?” Jonghyun traps Taemin in the corner of his eye, searching for his answer, lingering. Says like he already knew it, “You don’t.”

“I do.”

“Is he blind?”

Jonghyun’s not joking. He’s asking.

So Taemin swallows his heart and tells him, “Straight.”

“How do you know?” Jonghyun says again. “Besides, you confuse straight guys. You know how beautiful you are.”

Not Jonghyun. And anyway, “I don’t want to confuse anyone.” Taemin presses his nose to the glass, finds the breath to say it somehow. “I want him to like me for me.”

He’s going to say something stupid, he’s being so stupid. Jonghyun’s stupider for asking.

He’s not. He sees right through Taemin, so easily. “See you as a man, you mean.” Too easily. He’s said this next thing a million times, the times Taemin wanted to hear it, the times he didn’t, the times he needed to, and now, this time. “You are a man, and you’re beautiful.”

A million and one.

“I have a dick, hyung.” That’s Taemin’s first and last time saying it, if only because he might die right now, explode into little pieces, shrivel up, burn to ash. His voice goes on without him. “I don’t like girls, either, not like that. I tried, and I couldn’t. I don’t want anyone to try for me, I want someone who likes _me.”_

And right now he doesn’t want anyone, not Jonghyun, not anyone. He wants to debut. He wants to survive promotions, and then he wants to sleep for a hundred years. And then who knows. Maybe he’d wake up in a world where this feeling inside him couldn’t ruin their lives. His. Jonghyun’s. The others’.

Taemin didn’t ask, he’s done asking, but Jonghyun says, “I don’t know about anybody else, but I don’t fall in love with women, I fall in love with people.”

“You fall in love with looks.” And fuck girls. “Everything else comes later.” If it comes.

Jonghyun doesn’t tell him off. Doesn’t do anything. Just says, out of nowhere, “Does it mean anything to you, when I call you beautiful?” More than Taemin could say. More than it should, more than Jonghyun will ever know. “You think I don’t mean it, you think I’m just saying that? You think I’m the kind of person who just says things?” Jonghyun keeps his eyes on the road this time. All that means is it’s safe for Taemin to look. “You don’t like it if hyung says it, huh.”

He looks and looks.

“If it’s you, I like it.”

Says that out loud.

“I mean it, Taemin-ah,” Jonghyun insists, like Taemin didn’t just put every little part of himself out there. Like he hasn’t said anything weird. “You never believe me, but I mean it.”

“I believe you.”

“It’s not just your face, it’s your whole body, it’s the air around you. I’ve never met anyone like you.” Jonghyun clears his throat. Flexes his fingers on the wheel. Catches Taemin’s eye finally, and holds his gaze, pins him in place. Says it out loud. “Sometimes just looking at you—just being next to you—makes me believe in God.”

He’s smiling at Taemin. He hasn’t caught himself at it, secret, sweet, shy, mouth crooking, sun behind the clouds, in Taemin’s chest, in his stomach, touching him places he didn’t know existed.

“But I’m the one who confuses people.”

Again, out loud. Weird. Stupid. Crazy. Now Jonghyun can say, _Hyung made your heart flutter just now, right~?_ and Taemin can say _I’m so tired. Don’t make me talk when I’m like this, I never know what I’m saying, I just say stuff, and then you say stuff, and—_

“I’m confusing you?” Jonghyun says, strange and breathless, stealing Taemin’s too, dark, dark eyes. “Taemin-ah—”

Just one word, just Jonghyun’s voice, Taemin’s name on his lips, and Taemin’s saying, “I changed my mind, I’m hungry,” tripping over the words, himself, the air between them, frozen solid, burning his face, cracking under his feet, at Jonghyun’s fingertips, grazing Taemin’s cheek as he ducks away.

“Taemin-ah.”

“Let’s order chicken. Jinki hyung’s probably up, he can pay, but you still owe me, from way back. Way, way back. The last time you and Dahae-ssi—”

There he goes, fucking up again. Her name tastes so bitter, and the things it does to Jonghyun’s face do things to Taemin, ripping up his insides.

“Let’s not talk about her. Okay? It’s just you and me right now.”

That’s not what Jonghyun was going to say. Taemin-ah, don’t be confused. Like me. Want me. Love me. Taemin-ah, I like you. Taemin-ah, I want you. Taemin-ah, I love you.

Taemin’s so stupid.

Taemin-ah, you know I love you, right?

Taemin looks away. Leans away, leans on Seoul. The world outside. “You always talk to me about her.” If everything inside him is wrong, how is he supposed to say anything right? “It’s different if I bring her up first, right? Sorry, hyung.”

“It’s not that, I just. I don’t want to talk about her when it’s just us, I want you to talk to me. It’s been forever.” Since yesterday? The day before, maybe. Taemin’s starting to lose time, and soon he’ll lose Jonghyun too. Like he’s read his mind, Jonghyun goes on, “It’ll be forever. I won’t get to see you.” He reaches for Taemin again, his leg. His thigh? Taemin wrenches his legs closed, but then Jonghyun’s hand lands on his knee. Big and warm and normal. Normal. “Tell me things. Ask me for things. I don’t mean chicken.”

_Don’t look at me. Don’t talk to me or smile at me, or touch me. Don’t be nice to me. Stop driving me home, stop feeding me. Stop sleeping naked. Get an ugly haircut. Get uglier glasses. Go as long as you can without showering. Go longer. Tell me what I know, make me listen to you, because I can’t listen to myself. Tell me you don’t like me. Tell me you don’t like men. Lie to me if you have to, tell me I’m stupid, tell me ugly, tell me I’m family to you, just a child, just some stupid kid. Stop making me like you._

_Stop being you._

“Extra radishes,” Taemin says. “Half-half. Should we get two? One for Jinki hyung and one for the rest of us?” And then, because he can feel Jonghyun’s look, feel all the things he’s about to say, “I know, hyung.”

 

“Where’s Amber?”

“Amber _noona?”_ When Taemin ignores her Soojung just laughs. “California. Qian unnie’s in China with her parents, Sunyoung unnie’s gone to visit hers, and you’re stuck with me, oppa.”

Taemin has nowhere to go, anyway. It’s his first and last day off for the next three months, and here he is, stuck. Jongin’s the one who made him come, so he gave Taemin a ride, too. He should start driving himself more, before he forgets how, gets in an accident like Jonghyun. See how well he takes it when he’s the one who has to visit Taemin in the hospital.

Soojung grabs his arm and tugs him inside, out of the sun. Jongin follows them into the elevator, squishing Taemin back against the wall and standing next to Soojung.

“How’s Jinri?”

He asked so Taemin doesn’t have to.

Taemin only sees half the face Soojung makes, scrunched nose, furrowed brow. “Why do you think I came down to get you? Besides the fact I know you’ll get lost.”

Jongin makes one of his own. “It’s one elevator ride.”

She snorts. Pauses, fingers skimming over the buttons. “Which floor?”

“Twelve,” Jongin says, a second too late.

She punches eight. Taemin lets Jongin feel stupid all on his own, leaning against the wall, wiggling his toes in his flip flops. He’s fine waiting forever to see if it’s safe to talk.

It’s not. Soojung lasts five seconds before she turns on him and Jongin again.

“Be nice to her. She’s acting all normal, but I have no clue what that means. Unnie was supposed to come but she’s busy with work shit, so you guys are all I have.”

Jongin shifts his weight, stares at the ceiling, the floor, but he’s so much worse at ignoring her than Taemin is. “Are they having another comeback or something?”

“With Blanc, not SNSD, you dummy,” Soojung says. She hesitates. “If you’re talking about Taeyeon unnie, she’s only busy if it’s Baekhyun oppa asking.” Hesitates some more, and then rushes to change the subject, “I don’t know, whatever. Did you bring it?”

She means Super Smash Brothers.

When they were kids, the one thing they could meet halfway on was dancing. Taemin’s parents bought him a skateboard when he got into SM, and Jongin’s bribed him to audition with a Game Cube. The days they didn’t spend in the practice room they’d spend by the river or fighting Jongin’s sisters for the television. Taemin got to laugh at him whenever Jongin fell on his ass, so Jongin got to kick his ass and tell him how much he sucked, loudly, repeatedly. Taemin’s skateboard snapped in half back in 2007, but Soojung has a Wii, and Taemin still sucks, and Jongin still wants him to know how much. A lot. A lot, a lot. Oh my God, Taeminnie. Stop jumping off the cliff. Did you forget who you’re playing as? Don’t hold your controller like that. Is C-sticking all you know? Try something else. Aigoo.

He never picks on Soojung.

Taemin survives fifteen minutes like that. Jinri, too, and then she gives it up, comes out of her room and bullies him into giving her half his seat, elbow in his side, knee laid over his. “Nobody take Kirby. He’s mine.”

The only one Taemin knows is Bowser. He sticks with characters as slow and stupid as him. Still, she buys him a few minutes, as Jongin tries to set up the fourth controller. Taemin thinks pretty hard about making fun of him, but it’s too much energy, and Soojung’s got that covered. And anyway, his phone is buzzing.

Jonghyun.

_u left ur clothes on the floor again_

Taemin has five seconds to remember what color underwear he wore yesterday, figure out if his ears should be heating up like this, his skin tingling, and then Jonghyun adds, _left ur wallet in ur pocket,_ and there’s air in his lungs again.

_do u have ur phone? am i talking to myself? dont tell me u lost it again. its been 2 days taeminnie_

He might try calling Taemin next, if Taemin doesn’t hurry up and tell him something else. Taemin would’ve spent like a billion won on phones this year alone if it weren’t for him, and it’s only half over. Whenever he loses one Jonghyun always knows where to look.

_sorry hyung_

Jonghyun’s not impressed.

_thats it?_

Some stupid part of Taemin wants to say yeah, just to see how Jonghyun takes it. His fingers don’t listen to his brain, either.

_^^;_

Ten seconds this time. Twenty. That’s it?

_ur not working rt? its ur day off_

_jonginnie_

_f(x)’s dorm_

_is it better than ours? havent been since they moved_

_ours is cleaner~_

_thanks to me_

It was just some clothes. It’s not like they were radioactive or anything.

…Maybe they were? Jonghyun likes Taemin’s shampoo but there’s no way he’d like his sweat.

_^_^;;_

_  
-_-_

He doesn’t like that, either. Who knows if he’s pretending. Taemin would have to see his face. Jongin drops back down next to Taemin with a whump, prods him in the side. Oh. Taemin presses A until something happens, hangs in there until he dies, and then leaves Bowser to regenerate on his own. Just a second.

 

_thank u hyung_

_-_-_

_d(^_^)b_

_-_-_

What else is there? Aegyo?

_ >_< _

Aegyo. Taemin hits send before he can think twice, and then it’s okay if he dies, melts into the couch, into a puddle on Soojung’s floor. He’d be better off, considering what comes next.

_selca_

“Who are you texting?”

Taemin starts, Jinri’s knee digging into his thigh. When he looks up her eyes are still on the game. Jongin’s too, and Soojung’s, so it’s okay if his face goes weird. But then his voice comes out weirder. “Hyung.”

Jongin sends Bowser into outer space. “Jonghyunnie hyung?”

“He’s texting me,” Taemin says quickly.

“It’s not worth your life.” That’s all the warning Taemin gets. Next thing he’s dropped his controller and gone for Taemin’s phone, prying his fingers away, holding it out of his reach like it’s nothing, long fucking arms. “I’ve killed you like ten times already, it’s no fun if it’s this easy.” He goes for the keyboard, hunched, intent, and Taemin’s heart flies out of his chest. “Don’t—you—have—a—life—hyung—”

Jongin cracks up, laughing at his own joke, and Taemin snatches it away. Once he has the breath, once he puts himself back together, shapes words around the awful smile splitting his face, then he can tell Jongin, “You like me because I’m easy.”

Jonghyun’s always said Taemin is so easy he’s impossible. He’s always said a lot of things. _Aegyo, three sets. Stronger. Show hyung something._ And Taemin’s never said, _Show yourself_ or _I have no aegyo, you’re just weak_ or _Don’t ask in front of other people, and maybe I’ll do it. If it’s just you I will._

Jongin bumps his shoulder.

_later. in person. if u remember_

There. Taemin stuffs his phone in his pocket. Picks up his controller. Goes back to the rest of his life, and doesn’t try to catch up with his heart.

“Stop beating me up,” Soojung whines. “Shit, shit, shit. Shit.”

Jongin crowds Taemin trying to escape her. “Look who’s talking.”

Jinri tosses Soojung another cushion, just barely smiling.

“You want to play teams?” she says.

“I’ll pick your character next round,” Taemin says to Jongin, because there has to be someone Jongin sucks at, trying to steal Jongin’s controller now, because why not.

Soojung doesn’t even take advantage when Jongin puts it down, grabs Taemin’s wrists instead. The minute Jongin takes his eyes off the game he takes a pillow to the back of his head, and Taemin takes Jongin’s forehead banging against his, Soojung’s laughter in his ears, Jinri’s fist closing over his collar. When he can breathe and see again she’s pulled him to safety.

“Teams,” she says.

Soojung combs her hair out of her face. “Boys versus girls?”

“That’s two on one.” And that’s worth another pillow to Jongin’s face. “Why are you hitting me again, I was talking about Taeminnie.”

“Because he won’t,” Soojung retorts.

Won’t he? When Taemin pushes Jongin he doesn’t go anywhere. Doesn’t do anything about it, either, just smiles. “I thought you said you’ve been working out.”

“Let’s do couples,” Jinri cuts in loudly. “I call Taemin oppa. No offense, Jonginnie.”

Soojung falters, eyes flicking to Taemin’s face. It’s fine, Taemin’s fine, and Jinri has no clue why he might not be, but still, Soojung says, “What about me, I’m not worth mentioning even?”

“Not my style.”

“Are you saying Taeminnie is?” Jongin says, smiling wider. “Take another look at your boyfriend and get back to me.”

Soojung hits him with her fist this time. Hard.

“I like guys who do what I say,” Jinri goes on heedlessly, turning her smile on Taemin, too bright. Digging her toes into his thigh. “Right, oppa~?”

There’s no way out, nowhere to hide. “It depends?”

She takes that, and stands. Gives Taemin two seconds to follow her lead, and then goes for his wrist, tugging him up.

“Forget teams, you two play each other.”

Taemin doesn’t really care either way. “Where are we going?”

“The store. Cigarettes. They look at me weird if I buy them, and Manager oppa’s not around.”

Jongin stands, too.

“I’ll go, Taemin-ah,” he says, taking his other wrist, pulling him away from her, rescuing him. Rescuing Jinri. “What brand?”

Too bad she doesn’t need it.

“It’s okay. I want some air.”

 

Jinri doesn’t open her mouth until they reach the sun-drenched street, and then it’s just to say, “You’re so clueless, oppa.”

“Huh?”

“I get that he’s your best friend, but you don’t have to hog him.”

_Huh?_

“Don’t you have a boyfriend?”

So clueless. He never knows what the wrong thing is until it’s out of his mouth.

“Don’t say you’re sorry. I’m not sorry, so don’t be.” She bumps her shoulder into his. “I wasn’t talking about me anyway, I was talking about Soojungie.”

Taemin tries thinking this one through, but that doesn’t get him very far. “You think she likes Jonginnie.”

“Mm.”

“She wants to date him.”

“Mm.”

“You’re serious. Soojungie and Jonginnie. Seriously.”

“Mm.” She nudges him again. “What about him? Don’t you know anything?”

It’s easier just to tell her, “We don’t talk about that stuff.”

“You talk about everything,” she retorts, narrowing her eyes at him like she’s caught him in a lie. Smirking like it’s probably better that way. “Don’t worry, I’m not asking about guy stuff. I probably know more than you two, anyway.”

Whatever. Taemin knows where Jongin hides his porn and he’s heard all about his stupid crushes. All the things he’d do if he had a girlfriend too, holding her hand, holding her shopping bags, buying her jewelry and putting it on for her, the night she finally asks him to stay over, the night it’s finally okay for him to say yes, and a whole lot of other stuff that has nothing to do with Jinri. As for Soojung…

“They’ve been like this since forever,” Taemin points out. “They’re not acting weird or anything.”

She makes a face at him, totally unimpressed.

“They’ve known each other so long, what are they supposed to do? Just because their feelings change doesn’t mean everything else has to.”

“Then how can you even tell? Has she said anything?”

“She doesn’t talk to me about stuff like that,” Jinri replies on automatic, before she catches herself, adds, “Really. It’s not like you and Jonginnie. Do you tell your members everything?”

Taemin doesn’t tell anyone everything, not Jongin, not Jonghyun, and not the other hyungs. What little they don’t know about each other, the five of them have always tried really hard not to ask.

“Maybe I don’t talk to her. I don’t know.” She’s talking to Taemin of all people. Now, of all times. Here, out on the street, broad daylight, people passing by, some girl walking so close behind them Taemin can hear her footsteps. “When I met Jaeho oppa part of me wanted to shout it out our window or on the roof or something. Like, oppa, I love you! I don’t give a shit, I love you! But I always chickened out, it took forever to tell the others even.” Her smile twists, too late for Taemin to know better, look away. “I didn’t want to make him part of the rest of my life.”

“The rumors will die down, Jinri-yah,” is the best he can do for her. “Hang in there.”

When Jinri slows, the girl behind them does too.

“Dispatch has photos.”

Taemin’s stomach drops to his knees. He keeps walking. Keeps looking for the right thing to say. He doesn’t know whose fans are crazier, but Jinri’s not Taeyeon, and f(x) isn’t SNSD, and Choiza definitely isn’t Baekhyun. SM won’t sit there and do nothing this time, because if it doesn’t pay Dispatch off now, it’ll pay later. It wouldn’t throw Jinri and the others away.

Except it already did. Why else would Soojung be killing time on the couch? Why else would Jinri be here with him, track shorts and flip flops and no makeup to hide the circles under her eyes.

“The company showed me, asked if it was really me. I remember everything about that day, but I never even noticed anyone following us. Isn’t the back of your neck supposed to prickle or something?” She sighs. Smiles. “Who knows~. If I held your hand right now it might end up on the front page. Sulli’s cheating on her thug boyfriend, what a slut~.”

“Do you want to go back?” Taemin says.

She shakes her head. “I already have cigarettes, I’m not going for me.”

Taemin takes her hand.

Someone coughs, loud, exaggerated. That girl. Jinri squeezes his tight.

“Don’t worry about her. She’s just a sasaeng.” There’s nothing just about that. Shinee doesn’t have many, but if Taemin’s been safe all these years, it’s only because they think he’s a baby. Strangers still blow Minho’s phone up every day and Jonghyun can’t look at a girl without the Internet calling her a whore, and they’ve all had their cheeks pinched, their hair pulled, their butts grabbed. But anyway. Jinri doesn’t care about any of that. All she has to say is, “She didn’t send them anything,” and then, pulling him onward, “Buy me ice cream. I’m off my diet.”

 

Taemin buys four bars for the two of them, but Jinri spreads them out on the counter and turns to her fan, tells her, “Pick one.”

Melona. Fine then. Taemin will just be over here with his Jaws pop. He shouldn’t be having anything, but it was hot outside and there’s this bitter taste in his mouth, and if he doesn’t eat he has to talk.

Jinri can do both at the same time.

“Jaeho oppa’s way too good for me. He’s smart and cool and everything he has, he’s earned. I look sweet, but I’m not. And all I have is looks.”

“He likes you, though? I guess he must be stupid~”

She doesn’t even bother rolling her eyes. “You’re the stupid one.”

When he flicks her forehead she doesn’t laugh or try to get him back.

“I’m stupider,” she says around her ice cream. “Oppa.”

Taemin’s stomach flips over. He makes a face so that it won’t show, says in the dumbest voice he can muster, “That’s right, oppa.”

“You let Jonginnie call your name,” she points out, as though she and Soojung don’t do everything but. “It’s because he forgot all the time, right? You’re an oppa who’s like a dongsaeng.”

When he’s not a dongsaeng who’s like a baby.

“So what? Is Jaeho oppa like an ahjussi?” It just shoots out of him. Too far? He goes back to his ice cream but there’s no waiting her out. Her knuckles sink into his shoulder, so hard and sudden his teeth sink into his tongue. As soon as he can talk again, he tries, “What? ‘Oppa,’ what?”

“Nothing.”

“Hang in there,” Taemin says again. Jinri’s sasaeng meets Taemin’s eyes over her head like nothing, and the lights in here are brighter than the sun was, no clouds to hide behind, and he means it with all his heart. “It’s not forever, Jinri-yah.”

“Yeah. Not with him and me, probably.” Something in his face makes her smile. Something in hers sticks in his chest. “Don’t get me wrong. I like him so much I could die, I’d marry him right now. It’s just we both know better, you know?” She takes a deep breath. Keeps smiling. And smiling. “And it’s not forever with f(x).”

“You’re quitting?”

That makes no sense. She makes no sense.

“It doesn’t have to be that dramatic. I don’t know about you, but I’m planning on getting old.”

“Jinri-yah—”

“I wanted to say it. You ruined it. Stupid oppa,” she says. “You’re the first to hear it, the company doesn’t count. I don’t know how to tell the others. They’re so pissed already, they’ll probably kill me.”

“You’re quitting.”

“Mm.”

“You’re giving up.”

“Mm.”

They were here ten, fifteen minutes ago. Maybe this time she’ll say, _Don’t you listen? Ask me a hundred times, and I’ll say the same thing._

“This is your whole life.”

“It doesn’t mean the same things to me that it means to you,” Jinri tells him. “I can’t sing. I hate dancing, I hate getting sweaty and gross and putting on like I’m fresh and sexy. I’m so tired of smiling.” Then why is she still? It’s only Taemin. Taemin and her stalker and the ahjussi in the candy aisle. Taemin and the rest of the world. And then she says, “That’s not as hard for you, so maybe you don’t know what it’s like for the rest of us.”

What isn’t? Dancing and singing? Tell that to his alarm clock, SM’s electricity bill, the practice room floor, the sweats Jonghyun picked up off theirs. Working? Tell that to his body, nosebleeds and blackouts, four hours of a sleep a night for the last six years of his life.

Smiling?

“You think it’s not hard on me?” Taemin says.

“Is it?” She doesn’t search his face, just looks at him like she knows exactly what she’ll find. “It’s like Jonghyun oppa always says. You were born for this.” Just his name, and now his heart is hurting. If he eats fast enough his head will hurt more. If he traps his foot under his chair, his toes will. Hers scrapes against the floor, hand on his shoulder, ice cream melting on its wrapper. “I wasn’t, though. And it’s like you said. It’s my life.”

Looking up is so hard, but getting up, getting out would be so easy. Too easy. Bathroom.

He’s stuck.

“You don’t like her, do you?” the girl says.

“What?”

“You won’t steal her from that bastard.”

She’s not Taemin’s problem, he’s not doing this. His nerves aren’t going crazy. “Don’t you have school?”

“Don’t you?” she snaps. “How old are you, to talk down to me? You’re only a 93 liner.” Whatever. She can eat his food and shut up. “Taemin oppa. Taemin oppa.” When he gives in, she meets his eyes, resting her cheek on her fist. “Thanks for the ice cream. It’s supposed to get up to 86 tomorrow.”

“Thank her.”

That’s all she’s getting from him.

“She’s never bought me anything,” she tells him. “I don’t need her to. That’s not how this works.”

“How does it, then?” It’s out of his mouth before he can stop himself. “Are you in love with her or something?”

“Am I a man?” she retorts. Her face twists, disgusted. “Don’t try and make it— _me_ —dirty.”

Just Taemin, then.

If she’s clean, he’d rather be dirty. If it’s clean to follow people you don’t know and talk shit like you do, if it’s clean to go through people’s trash and hack their accounts and steal their things and post it all online, he’s fine being dirty. He’s fine. He doesn’t feel like shit. Jaws tastes pink and fruity, it doesn’t turn to ash on his tongue. Her words can’t touch him, get under his skin, twist his stomach tight, squeeze his ribs tighter. She doesn’t know him.

His phone buzzes.

Jonghyun.

_dinner?_

Jinri saves her second ice cream bar for the walk home. She takes her time, letting the sun get to it before she does, so the girl does, too. Taemin makes it halfway like that, phone buzzing against his leg, one, two, three, four, five, six, and then he says it, knowing how much he sucks.

“Are you okay going back by yourself?”

He sucks. So, so much.

“If it’s about what I said earlier, about Jonginnie and Soojungie,” she begins.

“It’s not,” he assures her. “I’m gonna go in to practice.”

For a second there he’s so sure she’s going to say, _It’s your day off, right?_ Or _You’re crazy. If you don’t have a life, it’s because you don’t want one,_ maybe. Maybe, _Looks like I was right about you~._

She smiles again, small and tired. Real. “See you around, oppa.”

She lets him pet her hair, then takes off. It’s not until the girl brushes past him and the two of them disappear around the corner that Taemin can breathe again. In. Out. So deep his lungs hurt, so slow he loses count.

_its just me and jinki hyung its depressing_

_went shopping yesterday._

_i dont want to feed him. i wanted to feed u_

_want_

_hurry up and come home_

_taemin-ah~_

Jonghyun would come and get him in a heartbeat, if Taemin called. He wouldn’t even try to kidnap him, he’d just buy him food and let his groceries rot, tell Taemin to text him when he’s on his way home. And there’s no way he’d forget, but maybe he’d let Taemin go without paying up, playing cute. Just say good night, and when Taemin got back, got into bed, sleep well. And the whole time, all Taemin would have to do is not look.

If he calls Yongdeok hyung, he’ll say it’s his day off, then tell Taemin to take his, so he calls for a taxi.

 

The janitors let Taemin sleep, so he wakes up to Yongdeok hyung standing over him. He must have figured he’d find Taemin here. It’s not like Taemin has anywhere better to go.

He doesn’t say as much, doesn’t even yell, just gives Taemin one of the coffees in his hands and hands him a copy of _Ace_ to sign. The art department showed Taemin what it would look like cover-to-cover, but it’s so strange, having it in his hands. He sits there and waits for it to hit him, the last half year of his life, the first thing he’s ever done on his own, his face on the cover, his name in English. And waits. And waits.

Finally he writes out loud. “To Yongdeok hyung…” Nothing comes to him but stupid stuff. “Don’t sell this off. Whoever buys it will be cursed~. Taemin. Smiley face.”

“Aigoo.”

Yongdeok hyung charges Taemin’s phone for him, too. The last thing it told Taemin yesterday was _u better have a good excuse for ditching us oppa,_ followed by, _did jinri say anything weird?_ He doesn’t want to know what it’ll tell him today. You ignored Jonghyun hyung all night and you’re still in love with him. You ignored him, you made him worry, you probably hurt him.

Taemin goes back to dancing. That gets him as far as noon, and then he’s out of excuses. The backup dancers leave Taemin to it, alone with Yongdeok hyung and his phone.

“You want to order something?” Yongdeok hyung says. He tries reading Taemin’s face. “Cafeteria?”

Taemin’s stomach is eating itself. His phone weighs a million pounds, and he wishes he were dumb enough to forget his passcode. Wishes he hadn’t been dumb enough to use his own birthday back when he got it. The door swings open, one of the dancers back for their wallet or phone or something. Taemin looks up on automatic, “Hyung—” Jonghyun hyung. He smiles into Taemin’s silence, all 24 hours of it. “What are you doing here? Was SM Town practice today?”

“Tomorrow.” Jonghyun holds the bag in his hand aloft. “I brought you lunch.”

And a change of clothes, it looks like.

Taemin scrubs his hand through his hair. Clenches his fingers in the fabric of his pants. Keeps his head up somehow. His own smile takes him by surprise, leaves him dizzy. Is this normal? Is everything normal?

“I have something for you, too,” he says.

Yongdeok hyung takes a second to get it, returning Taemin’s look with one of his own. _Ace._ Other copies. Jonghyun’s. “Ah. Van. I left the rest in the backseat.”

“Do you just want to eat out there?” Taemin says, turning back to Jonghyun. Hesitating. “Is there enough for three people?”

Jonghyun opens his mouth to reply, and then for the longest time he just doesn’t, shifting his weight, biting his lip, eyes stuck on Taemin’s face. In the end Yongdeok hyung beats him to it.

“Forget it, I’m gonna order something. I’ve been eating with you so much it feels like I’ve gone on your diet. Should I have jjajangmyun or jjamppong~?”

“I don’t know if I made enough for you, even,” Jonghyun adds, so fast his words run up against Yongdeok hyung’s, and then it’s, “You never even know how hungry you are until you start to eat.”

He takes Taemin’s wrist in his hand, and Taemin lets him pull him to his side. When Taemin heads for the stairs, though, Jonghyun tugs him back. “Let’s not, Taemin-ah.” Too hot? He could get Yongdeok hyung’s keys, turn on the AC. Should. He needs them anyway, because duh. But that’s not right either, because Jonghyun takes him past the practice room door. “What about the roof?”

“It’ll be hotter up there, hyung. The cement.”

“No, I just thought…you spend every day trapped in here or the van, you need fresh air. There’s a breeze, it’ll be nice.”

Some other time, then. Maybe Taemin can walk him out, give it to him then. Maybe not, because they’re only halfway down the hall when Yongdeok hyung catches up with them.

“Wait, Taemin-ah. Here. Just to show him.”

Jonghyun’s eyes snap down to the album in Yongdeok hyung’s outstretched hand, and he takes it from him before Taemin can think to, thanking him, smiling, bowing him off. And then just like that it’s only the two of them again, Jonghyun’s shoulder bumping into his, his eyes flitting from Taemin’s photo to his face. “They finished pressing it? You didn’t say anything, Taemin-ah. I didn’t know.”

Taemin forgot until today.

“There’re black ones, too,” he says stupidly. “You can pick yours.”

“Same picture?” Jonghyun smiles and smiles at Taemin, until he smiles back, even stupider. “They’re both you, I want both.”

“I only got enough for one each, you can just buy the other one. I’m worth that much~”

“You’re worth everything, Taemin-ah,” Jonghyun says as they hit the stairs. “Thank you for thinking of me.” Taemin doesn’t know how he’s supposed to live with himself if Jonghyun goes and says stuff like that. He meant it, too, half-smile, hand brushing Taemin’s. “Who else got one?”

“My family, the other hyungs…”

“Jonginnie?” That’s obvious. “Did you sleep over at his place last night?”

“What? No.”

That should be. At two, three a.m. EXO’s dorm is only twenty minutes away from Shinee’s and it’s twice as loud, and they don’t drink together either, so there’s no point. If Jonghyun doesn’t get any of that, he won’t find it in Taemin’s face, and the longer he looks the less Taemin can read his, shadows under his eyes, curl of his mouth. And he sounds off when he says, “Did you sleep at all?”

Taemin doesn’t even know if it’s his ears or Jonghyun’s voice.

“Here,” Taemin tells him. “Did you?”

“It’s a little late to ask me that,” Jonghyun says, tight, rushed. “I didn’t know where you were. Did your phone die again?”

“Yeah.” It’s the truth, and that’s all, but Jonghyun hates it, and if he said sorry Jonghyun might hate him. “You don’t need to worry about me, hyung.”

“That’s like telling me not to breathe.”

And now Taemin can’t. Up, up, up.

“When I don’t come home it’s because I’m working.”

It just comes out of him. He’s so stupid. This is so stupid. It’s only lunch. It’s only been a day since they talked. Texted. Two since he saw her in Jonghyun’s phone. Should he walk further away? Try smiling again? Lie and tell Jonghyun he needs to go to the bathroom, then lie some more and say he’ll be right back? His mind won’t be.

Their hands brush again and Jonghyun slips his fingers around Taemin’s wrist, warm, solid.

“It’s because you don’t take care of yourself, Taemin-ah.”

For as long as Taemin’s known him, he’s never had to. Maybe Jonghyun could tell him how.

 

The sky is cloudless and eternal, so blue it hurts to look at it. There’s no escaping the sun, kissing Jonghyun’s hair, burning the roof at their feet. They lay the clothes Jonghyun brought for him out on the pavement and sit down to eat, pressed together from shoulder to hip, legs lining up, Jonghyun’s voice right in Taemin’s ear.

Zucchini, Taemin-ah, don’t just eat meat. Bean sprouts. Is it too salty? You sure? Rice. Aaaah.

Taemin eats.

Jonghyun does too, when he’s not feeding Taemin, sneaking glances at him, flipping his album over in his hands. Staring down at it.

Taemin pushes his shoulder into Jonghyun’s. “Open it.”

“It says Yongdeok hyung on it,” Jonghyun reminds him. He pushes back, solid and warm. “What will mine say? ‘Jonghyunnie hyung?’”

“Mm.”

“That’s it?”

“Jonghyunnie hyung…thank you for feeding me?” Jonghyun wrinkles his nose like he’s supposed to, and Taemin’s stomach flutters like it’s not. He stuffs his face until he can barely form words, until he’ll sound weird no matter what. “Thank you for believing in me? Thank you for everything. That sounds like goodbye, though.”

Jonghyun turns Taemin’s face to his just to pick rice off it, playing along. “Goodbye or not, that’s too weak. ‘Hyung, I’ll wait for you. Hurry and catch up.’ ‘Hyung, I would have died without you~.’ ‘Hyung, I love you.’” Taemin only meets Jonghyun’s eyes because he can’t look away. Jonghyun blinks first, pushing his thumb into Taemin’s bulging cheek, smiling some more to himself, shy, secret. That smile. “I can’t tell you what to write, Taemin-ah. It has to come from you. I want it to.”

“Open it, hyung.”

It’s all Taemin knows to say. Jonghyun listens this time, and then all of the sudden it’s ten times worse, guns and bubbles and half naked Taemins under Jonghyun’s fingertips. A million times. Skin buzzing, mouth gone dry, ears hotter than the sun, it takes everything Taemin’s got not to yank it away, snap it closed, to keep eating, let Jonghyun take his time. Which he does. But he keeps his silence, too, until he flips to the photocard.

“I got Taemin~”

Yongdeok hyung did, at least.

“They all look the same,” Taemin says as normally as he can, which is not at all. “The photocards.”

Jonghyun’s mouth crooks. “Sure, they’re all cute.” He rubs his finger over Taemin’s photo, then catches Taemin’s eyes. Holds them. “I’m so proud of you, Taeminnie. You should be so proud of yourself.”

Taemin’s phone goes.

Should he ignore it? Turn it off? Should it be doing this to him right now?

_come eat lunch_

Taemin’s tapping out half the truth, _already ate,_ when Jonghyun asks, “Jonginnie?”

Send. There. “Mm.”

Or not.

_come play then. so bored. off early._

_working_

_all day_

_?_

_maybe later_

“You reply to him?” is what Jonghyun says. All Taemin hears is, _You ignore me._ “Is it important, or something?”

“I saw it, is all.”

“Tell me when to text you so that you’ll see mine,” Jonghyun demands, breathless with laughter, sharp, ragged. Taemin looks up in time to catch the expression on his face, mouth twisted like the words taste foul. “Or text me first. That works, too.”

Phone again. Jongin, again.

_tonight_

“I ditched him yesterday.” Taemin’s just telling him, but it sounds like an excuse. So he just eats instead, but there’s no room left inside him with this strange feeling fizzing like pop, no taste buds left in his mouth. Jonghyun takes the next bite when Taemin tries him, lips closing around Taemin’s chopsticks, eyes on his face. “Jinri said some weird stuff.”

“Jinri?” Jonghyun says through his mouthful.

It’s not Taemin’s secret to tell, but it’s Jonghyun asking. He’ll keep it better than Taemin has, anyway. And who knows how long he’ll have to.

“She says she’s quitting. She says it’s coming out after all.”

Jonghyun goes still against Taemin’s side. “Her and Choiza-ssi?”

“She doesn’t know for sure. They’re negotiating still.” Taemin takes a breath. “It’s gonna be bad, hyung.”

It already is, and it’s not like Jonghyun wouldn’t know that a thousand times better than Taemin. Except, instead of telling Taemin that, he waits to swallow, then waits some more, staring at Taemin like it’s still his turn to talk. Then finally he says, “She’s happy with him, though.” It’s this close to being a question. “He makes her happy.”

“She was weird about that, too.”

Jonghyun hesitates. “I didn’t know you two were that close. What was she doing, telling you this stuff?”

He means, _When your comeback is next week._ And probably, _I can’t fix it._ And knowing him, _I can’t do anything for you._

“I don’t know, she probably had to tell someone,” Taemin says.

“Don’t think about it, Taemin-ah. Just think about yourself.” Jonghyun’s voice is so gentle Taemin could die. Then he reaches up to pet Taemin’s hair, rub his back, hand sliding down the curve of his spine, and Taemin does, just a little. “You started all this so that you could have your own life.”

“I don’t want to quit, hyung. I don’t even want to have to think about it, I don’t want to risk it. Music _is_ my life.”

It’s Jonghyun’s too, but Jonghyun just looks at him. “Are you happy?”

Somehow they’re having this conversation. Taemin’s had it with himself all week, all month, all year, ever since the first time Jonghyun drunk dialed him and soaked his shirt in tears and snot. Since before that. Before Dahae. Since the beginning.

“Are you?” Taemin gets out. “I’m not unhappy, but you are. You think I don’t know that? I know you better than anyone.” Jonghyun’s expression flickers, gives just a little, like he’s about to break into a smile or just break down, and just like that, Taemin would give anything to look away. Instead he tries his best to think of good things, because Jonghyun never tries for himself. Puts his whole heart into it. “SM will come through, hyung. In a few months you’ll be right where I am now.”

Jonghyun’s hand slides down off his back and lands on top of Taemin’s, sudden, warm, a little sweaty. “It’s so strange, hearing that kind of thing from you.”

Is it? When Taemin tries to smile for Jonghyun, Jonghyun tries for him too, so bright it blinds Taemin, faking it maybe. Maybe not. Taemin’s never asked him to.

“I’ll be right where you are, too.”

“Taeminnie…”

_vrrrrt_

When Taemin reaches for his phone on automatic, slipping his hand out from under Jonghyun’s, Jonghyun holds on, too tight.

“Ignore it,” he says, voice twisted even tighter. “You’re with me right now.” Two seconds staring into Taemin’s face, and then it’s, “I sound crazy, right? I’ve gone crazy. Really…”

_vrrrrt_

It’d be quicker to answer it. Turn it off. Something.

_Something._

Jonghyun leans in and presses his mouth to Taemin’s.

A second or a lifetime, soft lips, breath caught in his chest, Jonghyun’s fingers squeezing his, _this is a kiss. this is a kiss. hyung is kissing me,_ and then he’s gone, and so is the floor underneath Taemin’s feet, the bottom of his stomach, his brain. His heart is working on it, beating so fast it blurs, so fast he’s buzzing.

That’s his phone. Taemin fumbles for it, fingers too clumsy, stupid, too _long._ Take the battery out? He doesn’t even know where that is. He doesn’t know anything.

“I’m sorry, Taeminnie. I didn’t think, I wasn’t thinking, I’m so sorry. Taeminnie. Taeminnie, look at me. Please? Please, Taeminnie, I’m sorry.”

What is he sorry for? _It’s not cheating, we’re taking a break,_ and Taemin can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, the sun and the sky and _Jonghyun._ His hand on Taemin’s back, his voice in tatters, “Look at me.” Taemin’s ears are tingling, his whole body is, tiny explosions, white hot, blinding, but when he presses his fingertips to his lips all he can feel is Jonghyun’s kiss. Taemin’s first. “Taemin-ah—”

Taemin kisses him back.

For a second he’s terrified he’s done something wrong, eyes squeezed shut so tight it hurts, pressing closer, holding onto Jonghyun, his shoulders, his neck, his hair? He’s doing this wrong. He’s wrong. Wrong. But then Jonghyun groans into his mouth, _“Taeminnie,”_ and falls into it. Arm curling around Taemin’s waist, pulling him in, hand sinking into Taemin’s hair, lips moving against his, and just like that, he’s all Taemin knows. His touch. His _mouth._ Slow and wet, messy and desperate, lips crushed together, each breath harsher, louder, through his nose, right, through his nose, and if Jonghyun’s holding back, if Taemin doesn’t get more, Jonghyun’s tongue and his teeth, sun-kissed skin under Taemin’s hands, if this is it, first and last—

Jonghyun bites him, teeth digging into Taemin’s bottom lip, too hard. Too gentle. “Say it’s me.”

What? If Taemin opens his eyes, if he looks, he might die.

“It’s you.”

“Tell me there’s no one else. Tell me it’s me,” Jonghyun says into Taemin’s mouth, holding him tighter, fingers biting into his hip, pulling his hair. “I’ve been going crazy, Taeminnie. You make me so crazy. You’re all I ever think about.”

“You’re crazy. This is crazy. There’s no one.”

Jonghyun half sighs half laughs, shaky, ragged, hand slipping down to cup Taemin’s cheek. And then he takes his mouth away, pulls back, dark, dark eyes, and he’s all Taemin can see.

“Tell me there won’t be,” Jonghyun demands. “Only me.”

“You don’t like men.”

Of all things Jonghyun smiles.

“I like you. Don’t you know that?”

Taemin doesn’t know anything. No one told him. He doesn’t know how long it's been like this, just that he’s been good, he’s sat on his hands and looked the other way and stood under cold water waiting for his dick to go down, for Jonghyun to leave his body. One kiss and he’s forgotten _everything._ Jonghyun strokes his thumb over his cheek, presses it to Taemin’s mouth.

“It’s no good, I guess I’ll have to keep saying it,” he says, and then, again, “I like you.” Taemin’s heart is going to explode all over him if Jonghyun keeps this up, leaning in to kiss Taemin’s forehead, his brow, one eye, then the other. “I like you.” When it’s Taemin’s mouth again Taemin meets his lips, waiting, dying for it. Jonghyun smiles again, low amused sound, tongue teasing Taemin’s lips, the corner of his mouth, pushing inside, so hot and wet it’s not funny, the things it does to Taemin, lightning up his spine, toes curling in his shoes. “If you can’t say it back, if you don’t like me, if there’s someone else, I don’t know what I’ll do. I’ll make you.”

_You have a girlfriend._

The words burn away before Taemin can swallow them, bite his tongue, pinch himself, wake up. Last he checked it was 12:30 and there were fifteen minutes left of his lunch break, and now he’s hard in his pants, half in Jonghyun’s lap, Jonghyun’s tongue in his mouth, his hands under Taemin’s shirt and his taste under Taemin’s skin, kimchi and garlic and salt and _Jonghyun._

“Hyung.”

Jonghyun squeezes him tighter, breaking away to bury his face in Taemin’s neck, pressing kisses into his skin, saying into it, “Am I too much? Should I shut up? Should I stop? Taeminnie?”

_It’s broad daylight. Anyone could come up here, any minute, any second. Right now. This is the end of my life. Either I’ll have a heart attack or someone will see us._

Jonghyun bites him, harder, harder, until he drags what’s inside Taemin out, too loud, too close to a moan. Taemin hangs onto him, hands closing into fists at Jonghyun’s back. He wants his mouth again. He wants his tongue and his lips and his eyes and that smile, that look on his face, the way he says Taemin’s name, Jonghyun’s everything. Jonghyun’s dick. It’s hard for him now, pressing into Taemin’s thigh.

Taemin presses back. Jonghyun makes this _noise,_ low, desperate, and they’ve barely done anything and Taemin did that to him and he’d do anything. _Anything._ Taemin’s face flames and his body burns and his legs go weak and he can’t.

_We can’t, hyung. I like you. I love you. We can’t._

“Hyung—”

“Taemin-ah.”

Yongdeok hyung.

 

The afternoon crawls and blurs and time bends so far it should break, but “Danger” keeps Taemin alive. Too loud to hear anything else, too loud to think. He fucks up and keeps dancing. Cramps up. Loses all his water weight, sweats through his clothes again, because he left the ones Jonghyun gave him on the roof with Jonghyun. _Taemin-ah. Taemin-ah, wait,_ but for what? Nothing, just the two of them standing there, three feet away from each other with their boners tucked into their waistbands, hard and wanting and pretending it’s safe, _I’ll see you at home,_ like Taemin couldn’t see the look on Jonghyun’s face right then.

Because, _Taemin-ah. Practice. Everyone’s back, they sent me to get you._

Yongdeok hasn’t said anything else. He’s pretending, too. He didn’t see anything. There’s no reason he coughed and slammed the door to the roof and stared at his feet and waited around until Taemin went first. There’s no reason Taemin can’t look him in the face now. Taemin’s fine that way. He’s fine. He’s fucking practicing. He’ll practice until his legs give out. Until his heart does.

The clock betrays him first.

“They’re cleaning the carpets tonight,” Yongdeok hyung says, then over again, louder, closer, shoes squeaking across the wood floor. He reads Taemin’s mind right away. “They said everybody out, Taemin-ah. Everybody. That means you and me, too.”

It’s only one a.m. and it’s a weeknight, so Taemin calls Jongin.

Jongin doesn’t ask. It takes ten minutes for Yongdeok hyung to ditch Taemin, and twenty for Jongin to show up. New car.

“You saw it yesterday, Taeminnie.” Oh. Yeah. Yesterday. The world before Jonghyun kissed him. “Where do you want to go?”

Nowhere. “The river.”

“You think it’s weird we hang out there? Wonsikkie does, he says it’s a couple thing.” Are they dating, then? “Then again, maybe not. It’s Wonsikkie, what does he know about normal.”

A lot more than Taemin. He’s had six million girlfriends. So what if they never last, they don’t end as soon as they begin. And Jonghyun’s not Taemin’s boyfriend. He’s Dahae’s.

Taemin bites his tongue until he tastes blood.

It’s no better with the wind in his face, the stars over his head, winking, laughing at him.

_You spend every day trapped in here or the van, you need fresh air._

“Do some of the talking, Taemin-ah.”

“I don’t have anything to say.”

Except that’s something. It counts, right?

Maybe not. “You’re that tired? Aigoo. Soojungie thought you were mad or something.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“That’s what I said.” Jongin throws his arm over Taemin’s shoulder. “You would’ve said something to me if you were.”

_I kissed Jonghyunnie hyung. I kissed him on the roof and I wanted to do more. Manager hyung saw but he’s acting like he didn’t. The company doesn’t know I’m gay. My parents don’t know._

_I’m in love with hyung. He said he likes me._

_He has someone else._

Jongin’s met her.

“What did Jinri tell you?” Taemin says.

“Nothing,” Jongin replies, so easily. “You bought her ice cream instead of cigarettes? Worry about yourself, Taemin-ah. Heechul hyung says his gums are turning purple.”

Whatever. “Looks don’t last, anyway. And there’s always makeup.”

“Lucky for you~.”

Yeah. Lucky.

_It’s like Jonghyun oppa always says. You were born for this._

_You ever wonder what the hell_ this _is?_

_Are you happy?_

“Taemin-ah. Taeminnie.”

“What already?”

“Don’t look.” Just those two words, Jongin stiffening against his side, and Taemin _knows._ He doesn’t need Jongin to go on under his breath, “There are like three of them. I think we walked too far, they had to get out of the van.”

Somehow words come up instead of his heart. “It’s you, right? They got Baekhyun hyung.”

“I came from my sister’s house, not the dorm,” Jongin says. “They must’ve picked us up outside SM, and they announced your comeback, you’re next. It’s you.”

What if they were there all day? What if when Taemin said, _Do you just want to eat out there?_ Jonghyun had replied, _As long as you let hyung control the air conditioning~._

Taemin’s neck prickles. His legs lock. His mouth goes dry. Each breath is heavier than the last, each step harder, and the stars get further and further away every time he forgets, takes his eyes off his feet. His hair has gone two days without washing, his face is tacky with sweat and exhaustion instead of makeup. He’s wearing…this. His lips are still bruised from Jonghyun’s kisses, and Jonghyun’s probably home by now, waiting. Maybe he’ll say he’s sorry again. Maybe he’ll say I love you. Maybe Taemin will figure out what he’s supposed to say by then.

He keeps walking.

And walking.

And walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Honestly, I'm not sure how to cite in this case, but a lot of Jonghyun's dialogue here is based on the DAZZlee Subbing Team's translation of Jonghyun discussing "Pretty Boy" on Blue Night. I paraphrased and changed things around, but the original segment is [super interesting!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E6X1tF71KM0)


	7. Chapter 7

_Vrrrrt._

Shut up.

_Vrrrrt. Vrrrrt._

Jonghyun slaps his hand down on the bedside table. Feels his way while he works on opening his eyes, rolling over into the light, eyelids burning red. He must have fallen asleep.

“Hello?”

His mouth tastes like cotton and maybe he sounds like shit, but who cares. They’re the one calling. Which, who?

“Jonghyun-ssi.”

Jonghyun’s heart stops cold, then starts up again double time as he sits up, grinds the sleep out of his eyes with the heel of his palm, swallows. Forgets about brushing his teeth or getting dressed or having this conversation anywhere but naked in his bed, last night burring under his skin.

“Yes?” he says. “Director-nim?”

“I’m calling in regards to our last meeting. I know we said we’d get back to you within a few weeks…”

“It’s fine. I understand.”

His hands are shaking, but his voice isn’t. Okay.

“Honestly, when we left off, the team was split. It’s not that I can’t see things from your perspective—from the perspective of any of our artists—but there’s a reason why SM works the way it does.”

“I understand,” Jonghyun says again, stupidly. “If you need me to come in, meet with you again—”

“That won’t be necessary.”

It won’t? Jonghyun breathes deep. Puts his head down. Clenches his hand into a fist, nails biting into his palm.

“I have a lot of demos, a lot more than I showed you,” he says before he’s ready, way, way before. “If they’re not up to spec I’ll understand, and I understand SM has better options, less risky options, I understand that, but.”

Does he? Every time he says it he believes it less. Maybe he sounds like he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about, what the fuck he’s doing, _why the fuck this is happening right now._

But Director-nim just tells him, “I know you do,” which leaves Jonghyun with nothing, just the bottom falling out of his stomach and his mouth dry as dust, and nothing left to say, except, _Please. Give me a chance. Please._ Is he telling Jonghyun this is the end? _You’re Shinee’s Jonghyun. If he’s good enough for the company he’s good enough for you._ Director-nim clears his throat. “You’ve submitted lyrics before, right?” That’s not a question, Jonghyun doesn’t even know what that is, what Jonghyun’s supposed to be, if Director-nim needs to ask. He doesn’t need an answer, though. “Sorry, that was rhetorical, you submitted something for Taeminnie’s album just last month. My point is, you know our process. You know we choose the best option, no matter whose idea it is.”

Jonghyun doesn’t understand. He needs to hear it again. All he knows is Creative has a million different ways of saying no. Jonghyun holds onto his phone for dear life.

“Yes, I understand.”

He breathes. Again. Again. And then.

“We’re willing to try things your way, as long as you respect our system. If your compositions are good enough, they’ll earn a spot on the album. Your album.”

He keeps breathing. His heart keeps beating. The sun keeps rising, filtering in through his window. Taemin left his bed unmade. Left the clothes he slept in on the floor. Left Jonghyun’s heart in his chest. It’s beating so hard. Is this a heart attack? Is he dying? Dreaming, maybe?

“I understand.”

“Jonghyun-ssi.” Director-nim pauses. “If they weren’t good enough to make it, we wouldn’t be giving you a chance at all. We’d be having a different conversation.”

“Thank you, Director-nim.”

“You don’t sound happy, though?”

He sounds like he’s laughing at Jonghyun.

“Thank you.”

“Aigoo,” Director-nim sighs. “Between Taeminnie and Red Velvet, our scheduling team is tied up right now, so I don’t have the details yet. There are none. We won’t go into pre-production until next month, at the earliest.”

Slow down. Say it again. Tell me again. Hit me. Wake me up.

Jonghyun struggles to get his voice under control. “Recording this fall?”

“And comeback this winter.”

“Thank you,” Jonghyun says. He squeezes his eyes shut, because what if he’s about to cry. What if he sounds like it. “Really. Thank you.”

“Work hard, Jonghyun-ssi.”

That’s it. Nine years of his life, a month that’s lasted an eternity, and that’s it.

Jonghyun loses it. Everything. Time, his mind, his self-control, his self-respect, words, the day, the month, the year, Taemin’s number. Thank fuck for speed dial. Is this a bad idea? What if he can’t talk? What if he tries and nothing comes out?

No answer. “Pick up, Taemin-ah.” No answer no answer no answer. “Taemin-ah~, please. Taemin-aaaaah.” Should he text him?

Like Taemin would reply.

_You’ll be right where I am now._

And now, maybe… _You did it, hyung._ Maybe, _I told you. I’m always right when it’s about you. I’m proud of you. I love you._

Jonghyun rolls over and smashes his face into his pillow.

_I’ll be right where you are, too._

Do they have practice today? Please let them have practice, let it be a weekday. What was yesterday? What time is it? Is he late?

Eight thirty.

He should get dressed. Their closet is just as far away as it was last night, all the times he went back and forth on wearing pajamas, all the times he woke up to the floorboards under Taemin’s bare feet, the closet door clicking shut, rustle of Taemin’s clothes as he dressed. Whenever Jonghyun is bad, peeks through his eyelashes, there’s nothing to see anyway. No glasses. No light. And next thing he knows, no Taemin. And now it’s the most important day of Jonghyun’s life and Taemin’s not here and he’s not answering and Jonghyun just wants to hear his voice. He wants to see his face.

At least this proves this is real. If it were a dream Taemin would be here. He’d be in Jonghyun’s arms right now, soft and warm, smiling into Jonghyun’s mouth. If they had time maybe Taemin would kiss his way down Jonghyun’s body and reward him. Even if they didn’t. It would be a dream. Jonghyun’s dream, so no maybe, either.

Maybe Jonghyun should wake up. Maybe all the blood in his body is splitting between his face and his dick and his pillow is wet and he’s smiling so hard it hurts and he’s gone crazy. It’s too much for his body to hold, this feeling, this moment. His album. Taemin. His.

_taemin-ah_

_taemin-ah~_

_arent u curious?_

_check ur phone_

_check on me_

_ask when u see me._

_ask when u read this_

_i wont tell u until u do_

_ask about me taeminnie_

_…_

_u said its me._

Jonghyun makes himself delete it. Taemin said whatever Jonghyun told him that day, eyes shut tight, hands holding onto Jonghyun even tighter, but he came home that night and hid under his blanket, stiff back, tight breathing, and said, _I’m so tired, hyung._ The whole company knew Taemin had gotten caught with Jongin before Jonghyun did, and then a few days later the whole country did. And Taemin’s said nothing since, not about Jongin or Jonghyun, and not about that night at the river or in their room, lying there alone in the dark, struggling to keep everything in and to keep Jonghyun out. Just stares at Jonghyun when Jonghyun’s not supposed to be looking, then stares at the floor whenever Jonghyun catches him. Comes home after Jonghyun leaves for Blue Night, pretends to be asleep when he gets back. Talks a million miles an hour if there’s someone else around, then falls into silences whenever Jonghyun manages to get him on his own, as deep and painful as Taemin’s blushes. Phone dead, turned off, lost.

No reply.

He and Taemin aren’t the only two people in the world, though. His sister. His mom. Kibum? He’ll see him later, same as Taemin. Minho, Jinki…he could shout it through the door right now. Jinki might even shout back, the way his recovery is going. By the time Jonghyun goes into the studio Jinki will be back in the vocal room. Taeyeon. Heeyeon.

Hong Dahae.

Jonghyun falters. He thinks he’s going to ignore her, ignore it, and then he keeps on thinking that, fingertip pressed to her name, stomach twisting up, butterflies with broken wings. She moved on first, the way she always does. Weeks after they fought it was a marriage meeting, and then a few days ago it was a text: _we need to talk._ Maybe if he hangs on long enough she’ll let him know if it’s over.

It’s over. If she won’t tell him, he has to tell her.

Now?

Not over the phone, what kind of bastard does that. Not Jonghyun. Not the kind of bastard who thinks of fucking someone else when they’re fucking their girlfriend, or the kind of bastard who leaves her crying and then spends the next three weeks trying not to think of her at all.

_I’m really fucking trying!_

Jonghyun dials her number. She gives him three rings to regret it.

“Hello?”

She sounds the same, like nothing happened, no time has passed. She sounds like herself. What did he expect?

Jonghyun swallows back the bitter taste in his mouth. “It’s me.”

“I didn’t delete your number, either,” she tells him. He couldn’t, so he got a new phone. And then one afternoon, nothing but Jinki’s soju and Jonghyun’s demos and Taemin’s silences and Taemin’s empty bed and Taemin’s dirty clothes, Taemin’s shampoo staring at him as he showered because of that one single time he tried sniffing it, Taemin, Taemin, Taemin…Jonghyun took her out of his head and put her into his phone. “What is it, why are you calling now?”

“If it’s a bad time—”

“I mean, why are you calling now, after three weeks?” she says over him. Then hesitates. “I texted you a week ago, Jonghyun-ah. Don’t tell me you’ve been busy.”

“I have been. SM Town.” It’s not even a lie, it just feels like it. And if he’s spent every minute he’s not working lying around and hating himself, checking his phone, hating himself some more, waiting for Taemin to remember he exists, waiting to forget that Dahae does…Dahae has no right to know. “And I will be. My album got green-lighted.”

She doesn’t need to know that, either.

She skips being happy for him or faking it, and says, “Did you call to brag?”

_Taeminnie won’t pick up._

“No, I just called.” And now he’s just lying here, staring at the ceiling, Taemin’s name in his mouth. It tastes nothing like guilt, but then, the fact that it doesn’t means that it should. Jonghyun scrubs his hand over his eyes. “Should I not have?”

“Come over and brag some more. It’s a lot cuter in person.”

“Dahae-yah.”

Just her name, just his voice right now, and in a heartbeat she comes back with, “I mean it. I’ll make you dinner.” Which, what? Like she’s read his mind she goes on, “I do know how to cook, don’t worry, I just don’t.” She pauses, but she’s going to say it anyway, they both know it. “When I get married, maybe.”

To the chaebol heir she met up with, maybe. She’d hate it, giving up her career to slave in her mother-in-law’s kitchen and give her grandchildren, playing with her husband’s credit cards and living or dying by her kids’ grades, golf and coffee and spa visits. She can’t live for anyone else but herself, and she deserves so much more than that life could give her.

More than her life with Jonghyun could, too.

“It’s fine,” he says.

She sighs, sudden, explosive.

“No, it’s not. If it were you wouldn’t be saying that.”

Jonghyun takes a deep breath.

“Dahae…You said we needed to talk. We do.”

“You have things you want to say, right?” she says. “People say things when they’re angry, baby. I was angry. Even when I texted you, still.”

This is supposed to be the best day of Jonghyun’s life, and now they’re going back there. “And now you’re not?”

She snorts. “I guess you are.”

It’s a struggle just to say, “I’m not,” but Jonghyun breathes freer on the other side. “You were right, I never say what I mean, or I say things and then I want to take them back.” And now he has to say it, the thing that’s been echoing around his head since Taemin dabbed ointment on the scratch in his cheek that night, all the times he went to shave and saw it, the time he realized it had disappeared. Since the afternoon Jonghyun stole Taemin’s first kiss, and Taemin kissed him back. “But there are some things you can’t.”

“You say them to hurt me.” It’s not a question, any more than that’s laughter, sharp and brittle in Jonghyun’s ear. “It’s okay. I say things to hurt you sometimes, too.”

“It’s not that. It’s just…I’ve been thinking a lot about it.” When he’s not thinking about what to say to Taemin, how to make him listen, how to make him his, all the things he would do to Taemin if he were. He’s such a fucking liar, so why are these words so heavy on his tongue? Why is it taking so much out of him just to say this much? “What you said, what I said, what I’d say if, when I saw you again.”

“So come see me.”

Jonghyun closes his eyes. “What day works for you?”

“Night,” she insists. “Dinner. Whenever works for you.”

Jonghyun’s stomach clenches. “You don’t have to cook for me, I’ll take you out.”

Not a date, neutral ground.

“I know I don’t,” she tells him. “I want to.”

“Dahae-yah—”

Just then the door swings open and Minho walks in. He freezes at her name, face souring, then shuttering.

“Would you like it better if I said, oppa, buy me food~?” Jonghyun’s stomach turns over, but she said oppa, not hyung, it’s okay. It’s not. He’s a piece of shit and she was right about him, more right than she’ll ever know. “Money doesn’t mean anything to me, Jonghyun-ah. If your album sells, then we can talk.”

Instead of going away, Minho folds his arms and waits, leaning against the wall, watching his feet. Jonghyun’s out of time.

“Then…the day after our concert. This Saturday.”

The second he hangs up Minho says, “You’re gonna be late, hyung,” which is annoying, but not as annoying as _Hong Dahae-ssi? You’re still with her?_ would be. Minho doesn’t know Jonghyun knows he knows, and if Jonghyun told him he doesn’t care Minho still would, and he’s not Taemin. Jonghyun doesn’t want to hear it from him.

Jonghyun skips showering, skips even thinking about it, and heads for the closet. Pants, briefs, shirt, there.

“What about you, you’re not?”

“I’ll be later. I have somewhere else to be.” Minho doesn’t sound too excited about it. “I have a meeting with the casting director. For the Lee Kyunghee thing.”

Oh. Good. That’s good.

“Good for you, Minho-yah,” Jonghyun says stupidly.

He emerges in time to catch the look on Minho’s face before Minho can get it off. It’s all right there in his voice, anyway. Doubt. Hesitation. “SM got me in the door, which means they’ll probably want to throw me out. I have to convince them not to.”

“If you don’t you’ll get stuck at practice with the rest of us, so think of something good~” Minho doesn’t smile back, so Jonghyun smiles harder. Stupider. “Hold onto the furniture? Hunger strike outside of KBS?” He pokes Minho in the side and Minho rewards him with a frown. Jonghyun can do better than that. “You’re not like me, you don’t need to do that kind of stuff. Just be yourself. Flaming charisma Minho~”

Minho doesn’t laugh or turn on him, just says, “You don’t need to do stuff like that either, hyung.”

Are they talking about Dahae? Taemin? SM?

If it’s Dahae, no matter how hard Jonghyun tries, he gets her wrong. If it’s Taemin, Jonghyun tries anything and everything to get him right, even if Jonghyun is too much, even if it’d be better for both of them if he sat on his hands and bit his tongue and closed his eyes and waited for Taemin to ask. He’s trying right now. And if it’s SM…

“I guess I don’t. The company okayed my album.”

Jonghyun can see the exact moment it hits Minho, eyes widening, face splitting into a grin, but there’s no preparing his ears for Minho’s shout, or his ribs for Minho’s arms thrown around him, or his nerves for Jinki’s voice over his shoulder, “What’s going on? Manager hyung’s waiting.” Or his dignity for Minho hauling him up off his feet, spinning him around and around until everything in Jonghyun’s head flies out.

 

By the time Minho and Jinki let him go the sun is all the way up, and Manager hyung swearing at him doesn’t make him any less late. When he gets to the World Cup Stadium it’s Kibum’s turn, but that’s only because he’s bored and Jonghyun is there. Taemin is, too, flip flops and shorts and a T-shirt that hangs off him and may have been Jonghyun’s at one point, long smooth legs, cute toes, cute everything.

“You slept through two alarms today,” Taemin tells the ground at Jonghyun’s feet. Then, to Kibum, “Should I tell Jonginnie to wait? Three is enough to practice our choreo.”

“If Jonginnie has time now, go on. EXO is harder to figure out than we are, and Jonghyunnie hyung has nothing better to do than wait.”

This is the first time in six months that isn’t true, but if it’s for Taemin to practice “Pretty Boy,” Kibum’s right anyway. SM gave Taemin one song to begin with, but somehow he’s gotten them to two, and maybe three. Maybe. Jonghyun doesn’t know how hard Taemin’s had to push for “Pretty Boy,” how much fruit and ginseng tonic and hanwoo sets he’s had to buy, and he doesn’t know how to ask. It’s not like Taemin has answers for him right now. He’d have to have words first. He’d have to meet Jonghyun’s eyes first.

_Ask about me, Taeminnie. Ask me why I’m smiling at this time in the morning. Ask._

Taemin shifts his weight. Scratches the back of his neck. Keeps looking anywhere but Jonghyun. “What about you?”

_Did you lose your phone again?_ Jonghyun doesn’t ask. “Go on, Taeminnie. Kibummie has me to torture now, he’ll be fine.” Taemin forgets himself for a second, long enough for Jonghyun to say, “Go on. I want to watch, I haven’t seen it yet.”

Taemin blinks and his ears glow red and all he can think to say is, “There’s nothing to see, we’re just running through it, it doesn’t count,” but he does what he’s told, so Jonghyun does exactly as he’d said, finds the perfect seat. Watches. Listens. His song. Taemin, stupid faces, stupider voices into the microphone, snatching glances at Jonghyun like Jonghyun won’t catch him, like Jonghyun’s not taking advantage, staring and staring and staring. And staring.

People come and go, the song restarts, then again, again, again, again. Soojung is the first to stay, dropping into the seat next to Jonghyun.

“Is this a love song?” When Jonghyun tears his eyes away from Taemin he finds Soojung watching him instead, hugging the seat in front of her with her chin propped up on her arms. “I mean, is it about dating, or is it about being an idol?”

“It’s about Taeminnie.”

“So…the last one?”

“You say that like it couldn’t be both. Taeminnie’s one for one. One date, one scandal,” Kibum says from Jonghyun’s other side. Jonghyun ignores him, blood rushing, a million different things rising up his throat, _Those two have hung out at the river since trainee days, that wasn’t a date and it’s not a joke—_ “You wrote Jonginnie’s rap, right? You should’ve written a dance breakdown.”

Taemin said they’re adding one in, and anyway, “I didn’t compose it.”

“I always wanted to see them perform together once,” Kibum goes on, like Jonghyun didn’t say anything.

“They’ve always wanted to,” Soojung says. “They thought they would go together, so it was super dramatic when Taemin oppa debuted first. Jonginnie kept sleeping in the practice room and skipping school to come in and stuff. He would’ve failed half his classes if it weren’t for me.”

“Aigoo, you did his homework? Jonghyun hyung was always doing Taeminnie’s.” Kibum glances across Jonghyun, smirking. “They really suit each other.”

“Taemin oppa and Jonginnie?”

Jonghyun tries laughing it off, tries forcing it, but words come up instead. “They’re good at all the same things and they’re bad at all the same things, how does that work?” He needs to shut up. His voice sounds so weird to his own ears, and Kibum never misses this stuff. “Taeminnie’s the type who needs someone to take care of him.”

Soojung adds, “Jonginnie, too,” like Jonghyun forgot him or something. Like he could, when he’s up there with Taemin, making him laugh, making him smile, making Jonghyun say these stupid things.

“Stop it, Kibum-ah. It’s not funny.”

Kibum’s smirk widens. “You’re right, it’s not~”

“You’re not, either.”

“You are, though,” Kibum retorts, throwing Jonghyun this look like, _Why do you care so much?_ There’s nothing Jonghyun can say to that right now, not out loud, so he bites his tongue and waits Kibum out. That takes like two seconds. “It’s a joke, hyung. And if it’s not, it should be. Trust me, it’s better Taeminnie laughs about it.”

This time it’s Kibum’s phone that cuts Jonghyun off. Kibum checks to see who it is, then climbs to his feet, walks away. Woohyun, probably. He won’t even answer texts from him in front of Jonghyun and the others if he can help it, like he’s scared he’ll write every cheesy, cutesy, couple thing across his face as well as on his phone. But it’s okay if he laughs at Taemin. _That’s_ okay.

“It’s really not funny. Everyone thinks it is, like the whole country does, but it’s not,” Soojung says. “Taemin oppa doesn’t think so, either, right?”

Jonghyun’s eyes return to Taemin.

“He’ll be okay, Soojung-ah. The first time is really hard to take, so maybe it’s better it happened this way.”

With someone he’s not dating. With someone he’s not in love with. Dispatch ruined Taemin’s night and scared him stupid, but there was no relationship to destroy. When Jonghyun got caught with Shin Sekyung, that was the end. It took them too long to realize. Way longer than it’ll take Taemin to realize that he didn’t fuck up, that the company won’t hold it over him. That even if he did, even if he wasn’t careful, even if it had been real, even if it had been with Jonghyun instead of Jongin, he didn’t do anything wrong. It’s Taemin’s life.

“Does Taemin oppa ever talk about Jonginnie?” Soojung says.

“What do you mean, does he talk about him?” Jonghyun says, too fast. Should he try laughing again? “They’re friends.”

“There’s nothing funny about them dating each other. It’s not just now, it’s all the time,” Soojung goes on, turning from Jonghyun to the stage. “People always talk about them like that, like it’s so funny. I just think it would get to me, if people acted like just the thought of me dating boys was crazy.”

Jonghyun gets that so much it hurts. When Taemin told Jonghyun he was gay he told him, “I’m sorry I’m making things weird,” and whenever Taemin crushed on a guy, it’d take fifty million guesses before he’d admit Jonghyun got him right on the first one, and that was only to shut Jonghyun up, so Taemin would never have to say it out loud ever again. There were guys in the training program who were scared to change in front of Kibum, like he was the one who couldn’t keep his hands and his eyes to himself, when they would pick apart the way he looked, dressed, walked, danced, talked, breathed, existed. Like they shouldn’t have to keep their shitty thoughts in their shitty heads.

But that’s not him, it’s not his place to tell Soojung any of that. He has to tell her something, though, anything but, “Taeminnie doesn’t talk about him. Not like that.”

What is wrong with him?

Soojung doesn’t even know to call him on his selfishness. “Does he talk about that stuff at all? No, right?”

“If Taeminnie liked him, I think I would know.”

“You sound like my sister,” Soojung says, shooting him a smile. “She always thinks she knows everything about me~”

“I don’t know everything, just that.” Soojung laughs out loud. “What? It’s not funny, you just said. Does Taeminnie talk to you, or something?”

“Does Taeminnie what?” Jongin says.

Jongin. _Taemin._ Jonghyun doesn’t know when the music cut off, just that the silence is too loud, ringing in his ears. He gets up and edges past Soojung, just to give himself something to do, somewhere to put his eyes until he’s sure what Taemin heard.

“Did you watch at all?” Taemin says to Jonghyun. “You were talking the whole time.”

“About you,” Jongin reminds him, elbowing him gently. Taemin flinches away, laughing, but then he lets Jongin sling his arm around his shoulders. Jonghyun stuffs his hands in his pockets instead of closing his fingers over Taemin’s nape and pulling him over to his side. “Does Taeminnie what?”

“Do you realize you’ve got your shirt on backwards?” Soojung says, before Jonghyun comes out with something crazy. Does Taemin know how cute he is? Does he know half the things he does to Jonghyun? A quarter? Five percent?

Jongin hooks his collar with one finger and peers inside, making a face. “How did you?”

“The better question is how did you not, Jongin-ah. Fix it, you look stupid.”

Soojung draws him away, but he doesn’t take Taemin with him, which means it’s just the two of them. Finally.

“Hyung!” Or not. Kibum again. “Minho says the company said okay. Did you forget to tell us or something?!”

Oh. Yeah.

“What?” Taemin demands. “Your album?”

“Mm.”

Taemin’s face goes strange, almost like he’s about to explode, yell or laugh, break into the brightest smile or burst into tears, hit Jonghyun as hard as he can, kiss him harder.

“What, that’s it from you? Minho had more to say,” Kibum says, because they aren’t the only two people in the world, because it’s broad daylight and they’re standing in an arena that will hold thirty-five thousand people on Friday.

But who cares about that. Not Taemin, not right now. “Did you lose your phone?”

Jonghyun doesn’t realize how hard he’s smiling until he tries to talk. “Did you?”

Taemin opens his mouth to reply, then shuts it twice as fast, expression wrenched sideways. “Is this what you meant?”

Instead of torturing Taemin and pretending he doesn’t know where Taemin’s gone, instead of going back up to the roof with him, Jonghyun says, “You could have asked earlier. I told you to.”

“Next time just tell me.”

He’s not mad he’s the last to know, is he?

…Is he?

“It only happened this morning, Taemin-ah,” Jonghyun says in a painful rush, heart fluttering around in his chest. “Minho was there. Jinki hyung, too. Who knows, maybe he’ll buy a cake~”

“Whatever.” Kibum pulls Jonghyun in for a hug, squeezing him tight, drumming on his back, saying in his ear, “Good for you, hyung. Good job.”

What good job? It’s only the beginning.

Kibum reads his mind in half a second, stepping back to look him in the eye. “You know how you always do this thing where you turn everything good into something bad? Don’t do it.”

And then he lets Jonghyun go and all he can see is Taemin again.

“I wanted to see your face, Taemin-ah.”

For once Taemin lets him look all he wants, features softening, eyes meeting his, mouth crimping, shy and painful. Jonghyun looks and looks, until he can’t anymore without touching. Hugging is normal, it’s something they used to do all the time, it’s something Jonghyun and Kibum did just now, but Taemin stiffens as Jonghyun draws him in, breathing picking up in Jonghyun’s ear, tickling his skin. Jonghyun’s feelings light him up, sending him to this crazy place where every single thing is okay, but there’s no point if he can’t take Taemin with him. But then Taemin’s arms come up around him, too, holding him through it.

“You did it, hyung.”

“Take good care of me, Taemin sunbaenim~”

“You did it,” Taemin says again, squeezing him tighter. “I knew you would. If you didn’t you’re stupid.”

“Hyung is stupid.” Jonghyun buries his face in Taemin’s neck and breathes him in, sweat and strawberry shampoo and soft, soft skin. He can’t help it. “Hyung is stupid, so take care of me.”

“You can do this, hyung,” Taemin tells him, almost like they’re arguing, like Jonghyun is being stupid right now. “You’re you.”

When he goes to pull away Jonghyun holds on. Taemin doesn’t fight him, pressing in closer as Jonghyun tightens his arms around him, flattening his hand on the small of Taemin’s back, curling his fingers around his shoulder. Closing his eyes. Breathing.

Right now.

“Are you filming a drama or something?”

It’s only Kibum, but Taemin jumps like he’s been electrocuted, and next second Jonghyun’s back to the world where he’s not touching Taemin. The sun is still climbing and it’s already this hot, the sleep he didn’t get is crawling under his skin and the day he’s going to have stretches out in front of him, and it’s less funny than ever when Jongin adds, “Are you cheating on me?!”

It’s instinct when Taemin’s eyes shoot to Jonghyun, there and gone so fast he leaves Jonghyun dizzy, and then he’s done looking. He fakes a laugh, pretends getting caught with another guy means as little to him as it does to Jongin, pretends that one little word didn’t swallow him whole, _cheating cheating cheating,_ and leaves Jonghyun behind.

Jonghyun can’t look away.

 

Taemin won’t come to Jonghyun, there’s no point waiting for him when Taemin is Taemin and has no time right now, not for anyone, so on Thursday Jonghyun goes to him. Packs another lunchbox. Survives the drive over to SM with his skin buzzing and his heart in his throat and a million Taemins in his head, smiling, laughing, blushing, staring and staring. Gets as far as the practice room door, scrubbing sweaty palms against his jeans, reaching for the door handle.

“Don’t go in there,” Yongdeok hyung says from behind him. Jonghyun turns to find him standing in the doorway of the room across the hall, rubbing his hand over his eyes. “He’s practicing ‘Danger’ live, he kicked us all out.”

If Taemin could kick the four of them out whenever Shinee has to put dancing and singing together, he would. By the time he hits the music shows, he’ll be as close to perfect as he can get, and he’ll still spend his nights here practicing instead of sleeping where Jonghyun can watch over him, trying to get closer.

“Should I wait, has he hit his lunch break yet?” Jonghyun says. Yongdeok hyung shakes his head. “Has he been taking it?”

Without thinking, Yongdeok hyung begins, “Not since,” and then he shuts up so fast Jonghyun’s head spins.

But his face doesn’t tell Jonghyun he’s dirty or that him and Taemin are wrong or that seeing them together made him sick, or anything at all. And when Jonghyun shoulders past him and drops onto the couch and says, “I’ll wait,” Yongdeok hyung just sighs, runs his hand through his hair, and throws himself down next to him. Pulls his book out from under Jonghyun’s butt. Whoops. _Human Acts._

Silence, crawling, excruciating. “Gwangju, right?”

“Mm.”

That book made Jonghyun’s mom cry, so she passed it on to his sister instead of him, told him to save it for a day so bad nothing could make it worse, or a day so good nothing could ruin it. Maybe Yongdeok hyung’s seen _Sandglass?_ Who hasn’t. Maybe he wanted to marry Go Hyunjung. Maybe he wanted to call Choi Minsoo hyungnim. Maybe he cried as hard as Jonghyun did. Maybe Jonghyun should stop before he starts, because turning a tragedy into pop culture bingo is worse than sitting here with his insides shriveling up.

Maybe, “Let’s just get this over with.” What? Yongdeok hyung lowers his book to meet Jonghyun’s eyes, easy as anything. “Taeminnie won’t talk to me and now you keep looking at me.”

Okay. They’re talking about it. Okay.

“He’s pretending you didn’t see, right?”

“I’m pretending I didn’t too, but it’s not working,” Yongdeok hyung says. Of all things he smiles. “I asked him about you once, if you two were dating.”

Jonghyun’s heart is pounding. “What did he say?”

He shouldn’t have asked, because Yongdeok hyung’s face goes strange, smile twisting. “That you have a girlfriend.”

Jonghyun needs a second, a minute, insides squeezing in on themselves, down to nothing, just shit. And maybe that’s all he is, shit, because all he can say for himself is, “It’s complicated.”

“Are relationships ever simple?” Yongdeok hyung studies his hands instead of Jonghyun’s face, like it’s nothing to him how Jonghyun takes that. “I’m not asking, it’s none of my business. SM doesn’t pay us to spy on you, you know. But with something like this…I don’t know if they need to.” He hesitates. “I’ve heard Dispatch draws the line at gay couples, but that’s not something I’d bet my life on.”

Like the words are being jerked out of him, Jonghyun can’t stop himself from asking, “Don’t bet Taeminnie’s, is that what you’re saying?”

“I know I look old, but I’m not his father. I’m just his manager. And I’m just saying.”

“I know how it looks,” Jonghyun persists, because he does and he can’t take it and he can’t shut up, “I know.” _It’s been bad with her for a while. I’m breaking up with her. I’m not a player. I wouldn’t play with Taeminnie._ “I love him.”

For the longest time Yongdeok just looks at him.

“I’m not stupid, Jonghyun-ssi,” he says finally. He sits on it for a split second, eyeing Jonghyun, hint of a smile Jonghyun can’t read, then switches to, “Jonghyun-ah.”

Just like that, Jonghyun can breathe again. He breathes and breathes.

“I’m not, either. He’s scared, right?”

“Mm.”

Jonghyun didn’t need Yongdeok hyung to tell him that, he already he knew, but it hits him hard, knocks every little thing out of his head, takes all his words away. Taemin’s scared, he’s stressed and he’s tired and he’s terrified the life he’s fought this hard for will turn to smoke, and Jonghyun can’t even be there for him, not when he’d only make it worse. It’s his fault.

_I can always date when I’m old._

_I don’t want to quit, hyung. I don’t even want to have to think about it, I don’t want to risk it. Music is my life._

_I won’t do anything stupid. I said I wouldn’t._

It’s not stupid.

He wishes Taemin were here with him instead of Yongdeok hyung, that he’d walked in there anyway, cut the music, taken Taemin as far away from here as possible. The roof again?

But it’s Yongdeok hyung who goes on, “I’m just here to get him from Point A to Point B in one piece, but the thing is, that means keeping him out of trouble.” Yongdeok hyung who pats Jonghyun’s knee, awkward, heavy. “Jonghyun-ah. It could have been anyone. That day.”

“I know.”

“It’s bad enough that it was me.”

“I know.”

“Does anyone else?”

“Just you,” Jonghyun gets out. He’s gone from Jonghyun-ssi to Jonghyun-ah, but Yongdeok’s always been hyung, that’s kind of how it works with managers. Still, Jonghyun puts his heart into it this time. “Hyung.” That’s the easy part. This next thing takes everything he has. “Take care of Taeminnie for me.”

“You’re talking like you’ll never see him again or something,” Yongdeok hyung says. The smile he keeps off his face is in his voice. Jonghyun doesn’t care if he laughs as long as he knows it’s not funny. “Don’t you two live together?”

Their schedules don’t line up, neither sleep nor work. Jonghyun has Taemin’s phone number, but Taemin never has his phone, just the van and the practice room, nowhere to hide and nowhere to run from Yongdeok hyung. And Yongdeok hyung…he gets Taemin every single day of his life, and he doesn’t love him more than everything and everyone else in it. What would he know?

“Believe me, I hate asking you.” And if he hates how that sounds, Yongdeok hyung might too. Jonghyun rushes to correct himself. “I hate that I have to ask.”

Yongdeok hyung pats his knee again. “Aigoo, don’t worry. It’s like I said—that’s my job.”

“He thinks he can do everything on his own, but he needs someone to look after him, he’s always had me and the others. If you ask he won’t tell you anything, no matter what he’ll say he can do it, he’s fine, so don’t ask. Just be there. Make sure he eats and sleeps. If he fucks up be honest with him, don’t try to lie, that’ll make it worse.”

Yongdeok takes all that in, and then all he has to say about it is, “He’s been in this life since he was sixteen, right?”

He’ll be all right, is what Yongdeok hyung means.

“It’s all he knows,” Jonghyun replies. “He can do it, I know he can. I just don’t know how to stop worrying about him.” He swallows. Stares at his knees, the floor, the water stains on the ceiling, and then he gets sick of it and looks Yongdeok hyung right in the face again. “Hyung…I don’t know how to stop. I don’t want to.” Jonghyun keeps his head up. “I love him.”

Yongdeok hyung is the last person Jonghyun should tell everything, but somehow he’s the first person Jonghyun’s ever told. This is the first time he’s said it out loud.

“You’re talking to the wrong person,” Yongdeok hyung says, like he’s read his mind. But then he cracks a smile, goes on, “The longest I’ve lasted with someone is…six weeks?”

“Aigoo. What’s so bad about you? You work too much?”

If Jonghyun’s gone too far, Yongdeok hyung doesn’t mind. “Just bad timing.”

That’s all for the longest time, long past noon, long after the backup dancers check in on Taemin, then on Yongdeok hyung, telling him, “We’re grabbing another room, we’ll be down the hall if he looks for us,” so long Jonghyun’s heart stretches thin, sitting there and shutting up. So he gets up instead and cracks the practice room door open and lets himself look. Listen.

Taemin’s sweaty and probably a little stinky, and he’s started falling back on bad habits from the times before he trained his voice, but just hearing it does so many things to Jonghyun it’s not funny, heart tripping, smile fighting its way onto his face. And Taemin is perfect, unstoppable. Jonghyun knows he’s watching nine years of Taemin’s blood, sweat and tears, but he’s always thought Taemin was born to move like this, born for this specific purpose, this specific life. The world won’t know what hit them tomorrow, but Jonghyun’s seen it in Taemin from the beginning. From that one day Jonghyun walked past the practice room and caught him in the corner of his eye, all the other days Taemin half-assed his homework on the bus home or practiced dance steps all the way to his apartment door, the weekends he stood up his friends to come in to practice until he had none left, no one to talk to, just Jonghyun. The nights Jonghyun dragged him home from practice, the nights Taemin’s mom called him to ask if Taemin was still there, if he was sleeping over, and Jonghyun lied for him, the mornings he found Taemin curled up on the practice room floor, so angry he couldn't see straight, until Taemin opened his eyes and met his. _Hyung?_

Taemin keeps dancing.

Jonghyun leaves his lunch with Yongdeok hyung and goes out to his car. Sits some more. Thinks about jamming the key into the ignition, rolling back into his bed and sleeping the daylight away, going up there and telling Taemin what he told Yongdeok hyung.

_You’re everything, Taemin-ah._

Just sits.

 

Shinee’s gone on tour three times. They’ve been doing SM Town for longer. Taemin was born for the stage and he’s been in this job since he was a kid, and he’s spent the last few months of his life in the practice room, just him and this one song. For the first time in who knows how long they wake up and go together. Jonghyun has to drag him out of bed and if that does so many things to him it’s not funny, grabbing Taemin by the ankles, one step from standing in between his legs, all it gets out of Taemin is, “What day is it?”

Taemin makes them late scarfing down two bowls of rice and Jinki’s eggs and once they make it to noon he eats two lunches, his and Jonghyun’s, because his stomach hasn’t turned into a pit of snakes. Every time Jonghyun asks him if he needs something he says he doesn’t, though, just smiles and goes back to bugging the others, then powers through “Green Rain” and “Why So Serious” and “Lucifer,” smiling harder, brighter than the stage lights. When the coordi noonas corner Taemin between sets, he sits still, shuts his mouth, breathes deep. Kibum and Minho wander in and out and others pop in to say hello, EXO, Suju, SNSD, f(x), Jongin and Soojung and Taeyeon, but the only words Taemin has left are the lyrics of “Danger,” “Pretty Boy,” and “Ace,” muttering, pacing, so all Jonghyun has is, “You sure you don’t need anything, Taeminnie? Water?” And, “Remember, throw your shirt at me. _Me,”_ and, “If you fuck up keep going. You won’t, but. Your mistakes don’t look like mistakes,” and, “Hyung will be right there. If it gets bad, look for me.” Too much, in other words. He and Taemin miss the sun going down, stuck in this room, watching the hands of the clock. Taemin spends his last five minutes loosening his tie, fiddling with the buttons of his shirt, letting the coordi noonas reach up it and rub his chest and stomach with oil until his skin glistens, soft and smooth, tight abs, cute little navel. Jonghyun spends them keeping his hands to himself. And biting his tongue. Counting his heartbeats.

It’s like he told Yongdeok hyung, Jonghyun is the problem. Taemin will be fine. Taemin can do this.

“Okay…time. Let’s go, Taemin-ah, come on.”

Jonghyun grabs Taemin’s other wrist. The staffer doesn’t wait, so Jonghyun keeps up. He doesn’t say anything when Taemin twists in his grip, finds his hand, holds on so tight it hurts. Just, “I’ll be right there the whole time, Taemin-ah.”

So here he is. Backstage.

“Ace” is nothing. They cut it down to two minutes, and then it’s nothing hard-hitting, just sex on legs, so Taemin’s won’t break. _Just_ sex, ha ha. Taemin has this thing where he can’t even say that word without bursting into flames, unless it’s with his body, his face, his eyes. And then the air gets so thick just breathing it fills Jonghyun to bursting, splits him wide open, sends his blood rushing and his skin buzzing, makes him clumsy and stupid, this taste in his mouth like desperation.

It’s just a song and it’s two minutes and they both survive. Okay.

“Danger.”

Okay. Deep breath.

_You’ve got this, Taemin-ah._

_Go! Fighting!_

_Sexy. Powerful. You’re so cool, you’re the best. God Taem. Taeminnie. You’re okay. It’s okay._

“His hair looks good, right? He always wants black hair but I think he was happy with it this time,” a coordi noona says from right next to him. When did she get here? Where did that makeup brush come from? “You should change, too. How long are you going to stick with blond?”

_It’s not okay. It is. It’s not. Hyung can’t look._

Jonghyun wrenches his eyes away, circles back to watch on the monitor, sucking the inside of his cheek so hard his jaw might break, coordi noona following him, tutting at him to stay still.

Jonghyun’s heart goes into free-fall when Taemin sinks to his knees, but then he rips his shirt open no problem. Okay. Shucks it down his arms and tosses it away. His aim sucks because Jonghyun’s over here, but okay. Jonghyun will forgive him. Gets to his feet. Okay. All Jonghyun has to do is memorize Taemin’s power face so he can tease him later, and be grateful Taemin’s not here to see the look on his right now.

Gets through the last verse, finds the platform on time, and disappears.

_Taeminnie!_

Next thing Jonghyun knows he’s down the stairs. The hallways are chaos, too many people and none of them Taemin. Wardrobe. Right. Taemin said they gave him leather for “Pretty Boy” when he told Jonghyun the company told him his mic would be turned off, and Jonghyun told him to sing loud enough that he could hear it from backstage.

He turns a corner and.

“Why the fuck are we talking about this now? Like, okay, I get we need to talk—”

“Do you? Because we’ve spent all our time not talking about it, noona. Whenever I try you blow me off or change the subject or try to turn it into something else.”

“You are not doing this to me at work. We’re in the middle of a fucking concert, Baekhyunnie!”

“Like right now.”

Jonghyun doesn’t need to be here for this, he shouldn’t be here, but neither should Taemin. Frozen on the other side of Baekhyun and Taeyeon, in the bathroom door with his leather jacket half on, eyes so wide when they meet Jonghyun’s.

“Every time we have an argument, you don’t care what you say, as long as you think you’ve won it,” Taeyeon snaps, voice rising, arms crossed over her chest, tight, defensive. “Okay, fine. You want to talk? Let’s talk. All my members are afraid our stage will get ruined because of me, because of me and you, because of your fucking fans—”

_“You were the one who wanted to fucking apologize!_ I wasn’t going to, but you did, and then you told me to. I’m not the one who’s sorry I love you.”

“—and they’re down the hall and you’re yelling so loud there’s no way they can’t hear and I’m gonna have to go in there and convince them it’s fine, but let’s talk.”

“You want me to go out there and talk to _them?”_

“Your fans?” Of all things Taeyeon laughs, incredulous, helpless. “Forget it. They’re just signs, they’re just more of the same, I’ve seen it all online.”

“If they start chanting shit,” Baekhyun begins.

“What are you going to tell them? I’m Taeyeon noona’s property, hands off? You don’t know me? I’m not the person you think I am?”

Baekhyun reaches for her and she shrugs him off. Says, “You’re not the person they think you are, either, noona,” and her eyes flash.

“I know.” She does, she has to, so why is her voice shaking? “I know I’m not a bitch or a slut or whatever. I don’t need you to tell me that.”

“I don’t need you to need me to.” Baekhyun catches himself there, breathing hard, mouth curling into a bitter smile. “I guess you don’t need me at all, huh.”

Taeyeon’s face goes from red to white, blood freezing, everything freezing, until her voice cracks it all open. “Are we breaking up right now?”

“We’re in the middle of a concert, don’t let it bother you.”

“How is it possible you’ve been in this job for two years and you’re still so immature?”

“When it’s been seven years for me I’ll still have my own life,” Baekhyun retorts. “I’ll still be me.”

“Ten years,” Taeyeon corrects him, so fast Jonghyun’s head spins. “You trained for what, two months? You don’t know what it’s like. Doesn’t it get to you at all?” She presses her hand to his chest. His heart. “Doesn’t it get inside here at all? It’s been so long for me, and it keeps getting longer. Sometimes it’s like I can’t breathe.”

This time when he reaches for her Taeyeon lets him draw her close, stiff and motionless, hands in fists at her sides. Which means Jonghyun can’t see that look on her face anymore, which means his heart can start up again, and then maybe his legs will work, and he can get to Taemin.

Before he can move, Baekhyun says, “It’s not like that when you’re with me, right? Please tell me it’s not.”

Taeyeon pulls away with a smile that caves Jonghyun’s chest in. “Sometimes.”

“Noona…”

“Don’t. Just don’t, okay? It’s bad enough saying this stuff out loud, but for everyone to hear? If I cry right now I’ll hate you forever.”

“Then when?”

Taeyeon’s mouth twists. “You can ask me that? Do you not see how not okay I am right fucking now?”

Baekhyun can’t let it go. “I’ll wait for you, after.”

“You’ll wait forever,” she tells him. She can’t turn her back on him, though. “Don’t, seriously. You need sleep.”

Jonghyun thinks that’s it, thinks Baekhyun won’t hold her back, but then he tries, “Taeyeon-ah.”

“Aigoo. Aigoo, aigoo, aigoo. You know how long I waited for you to call me that?” she says, too loud, too bright. “Your timing sucks so much, you know that? So much.”

She pushes past Jonghyun, blind, scrubbing her hand over her face. Baekhyun follows her, “Out of my way, hyung, what are you looking at,” and he’s gone before Jonghyun could ever tell him.

Taemin’s only meeting his eyes because he can’t look away. Only letting Jonghyun see that look on his face because he has nowhere to hide.

Neither does Jonghyun.

 

It’s crazy, after.

The company didn’t bother renting out separate space when the stadium is theirs for the night, so the party spreads out across dressing rooms. Alcohol, junk food, pranks and inside jokes, any music besides their own, everything so loud it makes Jonghyun dizzy. Jonghyun makes it through half a beer and a chicken leg and “Crush’s” third play, avoiding Baekhyun and Taeyeon’s eyes, trying to keep his off Taemin, and then he gets up. Leaves Taemin laughing and smiling, pink and tipsy, squashed between dancer hyungs and walled in by empty cans.

At least he thought he did. “You’re leaving?”

Jonghyun only made it as far as the parking lot before Taemin caught up, and now he’s here in front of him, fingers caught in Jonghyun’s sleeve, voice in his ear, smile like sunlight on his skin. He knew Taemin was looking back, he knew Taemin would notice he was gone, just not that he’d follow him out here. It’s been so long since it was just the two of them.

“I still have work.” Jonghyun has to make himself say it, but then he lets himself reach for Taemin, petting his hair, soft and fluffy, all his sweat dried. “Enjoy the party, Taemin-ah. Don’t drink too much, or you’ll hate yourself tomorrow.”

“How did it look?” Taemin says, instead of _Enjoy Blue Night. Try not to lose your voice talking~._ “I felt really stupid.”

“You looked cool, you were cool.”

“I couldn’t get the sleeves off, I thought I was trapped.”

“I was scared you’d break your legs.”

When Taemin laughs it hits his whole body, shoulders relaxing, eyes shining. Hits Jonghyun’s too, right in his heart. “Does this count as my debut?”

“I don’t know. Do you feel any different?” Jonghyun asks.

Taemin’s not playing hard to get when he replies, “You would know better than me, hyung. You’re supposed to know everything.” He’s only saying.

Jonghyun takes a moment with that, then another, slipping his hand down to Taemin’s shoulder instead of cupping his cheek, so warm and solid. Squeezing. Holding on.

“The first time I saw you I knew you would make it, but how could I know you’d come this far?” When they were trainees, it was one day at a time, and when Shinee debuted those started to blur together, until the only thing they knew was the next schedule, the next song, the next meal, the next night they’d sleep, the next holiday they’d see their families, the next smile they’d mean, next time, next thing, next next next. And then sometimes there were days like this, where Jonghyun would look into Taemin’s eyes and _see_ him, the way he sees him now. “I’m just, I’m really proud of you.”

“Hyung~.” For a split second Jonghyun doesn’t know what that’s supposed to mean, but then Taemin leans in and folds him into his arms, and his face is wet and maybe he’s choking on tears. If he hides in Taemin’s neck, if Taemin pats his back and something a little too close to a sob comes out, Taemin knows how weird he is. “It’s weird. This whole time, I’ve been so confused and stressed out and I never knew what I was doing, and it’s gonna get so much worse tomorrow…but I’m okay right now. I feel like someone hit me over the head or something. Like I’m floating?”

“It doesn’t feel real?”

Jonghyun thinks about sneaking his hand up Taemin’s shirt and pinching him, but maybe Taemin would squirm away, make Jonghyun stop touching him. He’s just going to stay right here, until the exact second he has to let go.

So, right now. Taemin pulls back, tells him, “I don’t think I’m drunk, but maybe?”

Jonghyun thinks he is. He thinks that’s why Taemin’s meeting his eyes, talking to him normally, telling him things he wouldn’t, letting him in just that little bit. Why he can’t hear Baekhyun and Taeyeon anymore, why he’s not looking at Jonghyun and thinking, _It’s not like that when you’re with me, right? Tell me it’s not._

_Tell me you’ll still be okay when you wake up tomorrow._

_I won’t be. I have to go see her._

_I want to stay with you._

“Aigoo.” Jonghyun scrubs at his eyes. Pinches Taemin’s cheek when he catches him smiling. “You did well, Taemin-ah.”

“I know I did~”

“Take care of yourself, okay? Or I really will go crazy. I mean it. Eat. Sleep. Keep your head up. Don’t forget my number. “

Taemin doesn’t move, doesn’t go in for another hug or turn and head back inside or talk back. Jonghyun doesn’t know how much closer he’ll have to get to saying goodbye. How much closer he can. Jonghyun’s watch would tell him to hurry up. He’s late.

Taemin pokes him in the side. “I’m going on Blue Night on Monday, did you forget?”

How could he? “You make that impossible.”

Taemin takes that in. He’s drunk, so it takes forever. All that means is Jonghyun can’t miss the exact moment it hits him, what Jonghyun just said, everything he meant, what he’s doing out here with Jonghyun in the dark with the party raging behind them. That they’re alone right now.

Or not. Taemin glances around, looking everywhere but Jonghyun, the cars parked around them, the road and the city lights beyond, but only the stars can stare back. Jonghyun thinks about pulling Taemin in again, giving him his shoulder or his hair or his neck, somewhere to hide his face, so that if Taemin opened his eyes, all he could see, his whole world, would be Jonghyun.

“Good night, hyung,” Taemin says finally.

 

Dahae throws her pizza down, making that face. The one that says, _Why am I doing this to myself?_

Jonghyun knows the feeling.

“American pizza is too greasy, but ours is too sweet for me,” she says. “I was going to eat all I wanted tonight, too. Ugh.”

Jonghyun keeps chewing. It’s his only way out. He came over at seven and now it’s ten, and he hadn’t eaten all day but he’s never been less hungry in his life. Her, either. When she answered the door her face said, _I don’t feel like dealing with you right now._

She should’ve just told him that over the phone, canceled, changed days. They should’ve gone out, like he said. He came to talk, not order pizza and sit here under her eyes, waiting for her face to tell him something besides, _There’s something wrong. Don’t try to guess what._ Waiting to find a way to say without hurting her, setting her off, seeing the face she showed him that night, _I’m not staying over. I don’t want to fight, but I didn’t come here to make up, either. This is as far as I can go with you. This is the last time._

It doesn’t feel like it. Jonghyun swallows. “You want me to make you something?”

She said she’d cook for him. Maybe she went shopping?

“There’s nothing here,” she says. “Ahjumma found another husband and I haven’t found someone else. My mom keeps telling me to sign up for this food service. Her friends converted her, so now she’s working on me. She won’t shut up about it.”

“You’re talking to your parents again?”

It’s the safest thing to say, the best thing, but she just gives him a look.

“There’s no talking to them. They think they know my life better than I do.”

What is Jonghyun supposed to say to that? There’s no talking to her.

“Ramyun?”

She sighs. Combs her hair back from her face. Picks toppings off her pizza. “Would you still love me if I got fat?”

_I don’t love you._

Jonghyun bites his tongue until he tastes blood and gets to his feet. Ramyun. He hides for a while in the cabinet, then some more over the sink, the stove, watching water boil.

She steps up behind him, arms coming up around his middle, and Jonghyun tenses up, skin prickling. Squeezes him tight, lays her cheek against his back, so soft and warm, and he freezes. Everything inside him is screaming at him to reach down, unthread her fingers, break her hold, so why won’t his body move? Everything told him not to come back here, too, Taemin’s breathing last night, deep and even, and his own, tight and twisted up, like a knife in his side, heart attack in the elevator, stomach eating itself at her door, but she answered, and he came in, and it’s too late for him now.

Muffled in his shirt, she says, “Sorry, baby, I know I’m boring. I’m ruining your night.”

“Egg?”

“Mm.” Jonghyun frees himself and goes for the fridge. He thinks he could stay there forever, freeze his face off until it stops rearranging itself, freeze his tear ducts too just in case, but it’s only been a second or two when he swings the door closed, and she’s still right there, watching him, playing with her hair. Saying, “Maybe I’ll stop working.”

“What?”

“Or you could,” she goes on. “You could move in here and help me live my life. Marry me?” What? She’s kidding. She always told Jonghyun she’d have to settle down when she turned thirty, but Jonghyun always heard, _When I’m too old to have my own life._ So never. Maybe that shows on his face, _never,_ because hers sours. “That’s right, I forgot. You’re too busy going solo. What if I said it’s me or Lee Sooman?”

_Taeminnie._

She’s kidding, so it’s okay to say, “Lee Sooman.” He knew she wouldn’t laugh, and she doesn’t, and maybe the worst thing is how much Jonghyun meant it.

_It’s Taeminnie. You can find someone else, someone smarter, taller, richer, funnier, sexier, whatever. You said you could pick someone off the street. It doesn’t have to be me, for you._

“You wasted so much time worrying about it, I could’ve told you it would end up being nothing,” she says. Except she didn’t. This is the first time they’ve talked about his career in months. Like every other part of his life that wasn’t hers, it meant too little to her and too much to him. “They were going to give it to you from the beginning, probably, they just wanted to hold it over your head for a while. Watch you squirm.”

_You did it. I knew you would. If you didn’t you’re stupid._

_You can do this, hyung. You’re you._

From a million miles and two inches away, Dahae says, “Noh Heekyung was always going to say no.” She didn’t get her role? He got his album and she didn’t get her role, is that what this is? Is that why he’s supposed to feel like shit this time? She could’ve told him earlier. But then she goes on, “People think I haven’t worked at all because of my family, they think all kinds of shit. I have a brain, you know. I didn’t buy my brain or my face. You know how many of my friends’ parents bought them surgeries for their birthday? You know how many of them bought their grades?” No, Jonghyun doesn’t. That’s not his world. “I got my eyelids done, big deal. I worked my ass off in school. I could’ve done anything. You know how much I gave up to go into acting?”

No, Jonghyun doesn’t. He came from nothing, and there was nothing else he could do. Just music.

That and make ramyun. So he does. Keeps his mouth shut, shakes the flavor packet out into the water and breaks up her block of noodles, broth hissing and spitting, white hot on his hand.

“You have this thing about how people judge you for not being a real—” _artist._ “For being an idol. It’s the same for me. No one respects me.”

_No one loves me,_ she means. Not her parents, not her work, not the high school friends she ditched and not the ones she’s trying to make, not that guy she met up with, and not her boyfriend. Jonghyun doesn’t love her. But that’s not the right answer, it makes him wrong, it makes him a piece of shit. He came here to eat her food and break the heart he never thought she had, and now she’s telling him she’s hurting. She said it out loud. Her words didn’t hit him or sneak up on him or anything, and now they just hang in the air, waiting for him to do something about it. Say something. Anything.

“I’m sorry, Dahae-yah.”

Anything but that. Should he have told her it’s okay? She’ll find something better? Noh Heekyung’s not the writer she was. She’s written nothing but shit since _Goodbye Solo._

Dahae’s the one who told him that, but now she tells him, “I’m not Gong Hyojin, I’m just Hong Dahae. I’m no one.” Her? No one? If only. He wishes she were just a pretty face on TV selling him makeup, one of those people Taemin would try and fail to place, scrunching his face up, saying, _Why do I feel like I’ve seen her before? Do you know her, hyung?_ And Jonghyun would say, _Ask your mom. She watches so much TV, she’d know._ But instead she’s standing next to him, waiting for him to make this okay. He opens his mouth and—“I know I’m not, I don’t need you to tell me that. I know I’m good at what I do. You know, whenever you’re having a bad day, I just let you have a bad day.”

“Do you want me to go?” comes out of Jonghyun’s mouth.

She doesn’t blink, just shoots back, “Do you want to?”

“It’s not that,” Jonghyun begins for the millionth time, before he catches himself, makes himself stop, think, breathe. He’s done not saying what he means. No more lying, not to himself and not to her. “We said we’d talk. That’s why I came.”

“To talk.”

“Yes.”

“About what? Us?” she says with forced patience. “I talked too much about me, sorry.” She doesn’t need to be. “If you want to talk about you, I’ll listen. I said you could brag, so brag.” That’s not what he was saying. She doesn’t care either way. “It’s just you never want to talk about the good things, you only ever have anything to say when it’s bad.”

“I don’t need you to tell me I did well, either,” Jonghyun says, because he can’t stop himself. Because why should he? “I know I did.”

Her expression flickers, small mouth, narrow eyes, and it costs her just as much to say, “Good. Then I won’t bother.” Are they fighting? “What are you doing, aren’t you going to mix it in?”

Huh? Oh. Jonghyun stabs the egg with his chopsticks and swirls it around and tries not to think about what Taemin would say if he saw him now. _How can you taste it when you break it up like that, hyung? You can’t. Wait until the yoke gets hard._

But it’s Dahae who sits down across from him with two bowls, one for her and one for him, no fighting over the lid. Dahae who waits for Jonghyun to go first, then asks him if he thinks the noodles are too soft, if he saw kimchi in the fridge, tells him not to get up, then tells him when he returns that she’d forgotten how tasteless instant shit is.

“Dahae-yah.”

_Let’s break up._

“You eat, too. You’re a guy but you always make me feel like a pig.”

“Dahae—” _I’m so sick of this._

“Fuck this. I’ll get fat.”

She climbs to her feet and wrenches the pan towards her, then snatches her hand away just as fast, hissing, flapping her hand. Jonghyun stays where he is.

“Dahae.”

_Aren’t you sick of me?_

“Oh my God, can’t it wait?” she snaps. “I said I’m having a shitty day. Don’t make it worse.”

_I’m sick of you. I don’t love you. I’m in love with Taeminnie. You knew before I did, you were right about me. You have to know. Hate me. Hit me. Throw me out into the street. Tell me I make you sick, you never want to see me again, tell me you mean it this time. Just let me go._

She comes to him instead, passing her hand over his hair, pulling him into her, but if he shut his eyes and buried his face in her breasts he couldn’t hide from himself, this bitter feeling taking hold. When he stands she doesn’t let him go, looping her arms about his neck, dark eyes staring up into his.

“Hold me?”

Jonghyun holds her.

_Dahae-yah, let’s break up._

 

Somehow Jonghyun makes it through the next two days of his life without Taemin. He stays up that night to see if Taemin will make it home, the whole time knowing he won’t. On Sunday he has to get out, but then Taemin beats him back. Jonghyun finds him passed out in his clothes, drooling into his pillow. He thinks he’ll watch him until he wakes, watches and watches, and then next thing it’s three in the afternoon and his glasses are on the bedside table and his socks and belt are off. All he has left of Taemin is his towel on the bathroom floor, his contact case popped open, Jonghyun’s toothbrush left on the sink, caked in toothpaste, Jinki shouting down the hall, telling him to hurry up.

Today it’s Inkigayo. And tonight, Blue Night.

Jonghyun gets through it.

Taemin looks cool on TV. Jonghyun votes for him three times, once as Taemin, then as Lee Taemin, and then once for Jinki, because what if Jinki messes up. And then he goes back to bed and doesn’t think and doesn’t wait, and doesn’t wait. And doesn’t wait.

He can get through this.

And now finally, somehow, like no time’s passed at all, like Jonghyun made it all up, these last two days in hell, Taemin is here again. Not Shinee’s maknae, not Jonghyun’s dongsaeng, not SM’s golden child, but Lee Taemin. Taemin-goon. Taeminnie.

He’s so pretty Jonghyun could spend lifetimes on his voice, his scent, his face, his eyes, his lips, the curve of his cheek, line of his neck, the black paint peeling off his nails, the way he blinks and the way he smiles and the way he talks to Jonghyun, the sound of his breathing, his foot under the table, trapped between Jonghyun’s. Everything he says. Everything he doesn’t. His music. Ace. Him.

But there’s no forever in radio, just the time it takes to get to commercials.

“How are you doing?” Jonghyun says. “Should I do more of the talking?”

“You could do all of it,” Taemin replies promptly, like the brat he is. But then he hesitates, glances through the control room window. “I’m just being honest, but it sounds worse out loud.”

“You’re doing really well, Taemin-ah. Seriously.” Seriously, seriously. Jonghyun’s not just saying it, he’s being honest, too. Taemin doesn’t look convinced, though. “The company doesn’t care if you criticize their process, they can take that much. They’re probably not even monitoring you, anyway, no one listens to Blue Night.” Taemin’s shoulders relax and he nods, lets it go, reaching for his water bottle for the millionth time tonight. Jonghyun thinks about reaching for him, taking his hand and holding it, threading their fingers together, playing with Taemin’s. Making Taemin forget where this is, what he’s doing here, how long he’s been up, how close morning is already, every single thing but Jonghyun. But instead he stays where he is, says from his side of the table, “Is there anything we haven’t covered you want to make sure we get to?”

“‘Pretty Boy.’”

“Besides that?”

Taemin laughs. “I know the songwriter, I want to brag about him.”

“He’ll get a big head,” Jonghyun warns him, heart skipping a beat. But this is Taemin, so he hastens to add, “Just ‘Pretty Boy,’ just the things they’re supposed to know about. Nothing about my album, or I don’t know what I’ll do with you.”

Taemin sits back, smile fading.

“Then…the old days?”

“You’re twenty-two, Taeminnie, what old days.” Taemin makes a face that probably shouldn’t look so cute and definitely shouldn’t make Jonghyun’s stomach flutter. “You and I, you mean.”

“Mm. I have a lot I could say~”

“I do, too,” Jonghyun tells him. And he does, a lot, so much the moment stretches weirdly and something in his face makes Taemin’s fall, little by little. Something. “Which show are you doing tomorrow?”

“Just radio. Then Show Champion the day after. They signed me up for variety, too.”

“Hyung will have to watch~,” Jonghyun replies without thinking, and then he does. “I won’t get to see you otherwise. Taemin-ah…” _We need to talk. I miss you like crazy, I miss you right now. Do you miss me? Do you even have time to? I told you I like you. I love you. When you talk I can’t concentrate, I keep looking at your mouth. Are you looking at me?_ Except he can see Taemin now, tensing up, fidgeting, trapped, look on his face like he’d rather die than hear what comes next, like he’d rather be on air right now, at Jjong D’s mercy, putting one word in front of the other. Jonghyun clears his throat, shuffles his script, lets it go, but he can’t make himself look away. “Are you eating?”

“Mm.”

“Sleeping?”

“You must’ve seen me, I came back…last night? The night before?” This morning. Taemin says it like that was millions of years ago. It was for Jonghyun, too. Taemin hesitates, eyes lingering on Jonghyun’s face, studying him. “What about you?” Before Jonghyun can get any closer to lying to him, Taemin goes on, “It’s harder when you’re alone, right? Go home for dinner, or wait and eat with Heeyeon-ssi. Eat, not drink. Sleep in Jinki hyung’s room. Manager hyung won’t care if you take his bed, he hasn’t been around in forever.”

“I’m fine being alone, it’s not that.” Jonghyun stares into Taemin’s eyes, breathes Taemin’s air, so sweet he could die. And then he gathers everything inside himself, and puts it out there. “They’re not you.”

Taemin freezes.

“Hyung…”

“Five minutes, Jonghyun-ssi, Taemin-ssi.”

If Jonghyun’s heart just stopped, maybe Taemin’s exploded. Nudging Taemin’s foot with his own, he leans in and lowers his voice. “Not here, Taemin-ah.”

“At home?” Taemin gets out.

Jinki and Minho.

“I’ll take you, we can take the long way back. Go for a drive with me?” Jonghyun tries pretty hard to regret saying it, being so selfish, but it’s Taemin who makes him, head down, shoulders tight. Jonghyun has to do better. “Never mind, you must be tired. Just don’t fall asleep on me, we have twenty minutes left,” and then, because he can’t keep it back, “Some other night.”

Some other month.

Jonghyun’s hid himself behind his script, crisp and white and blinding, words floating out at him, when Taemin pushes back against Jonghyun’s foot.

“The long way,” he says. “I won’t be able to sleep, anyway. I’ve had like six coffees today.”

When Jonghyun looks up Taemin’s smiling at him again. Tight and wan, from across the table and a million miles away, at the end of the day he’s had, he’s smiling.

Jonghyun tries smiling back.

 

By the time the staff bows them out into the hallway, the only thing left in Jonghyun’s head is Taemin’s hand, and it’s taking everything he has to keep his to himself, palms sweaty and gross, fingertips tingling. He doesn’t get the door for Taemin, either, doesn’t even think about it until the night bursts in on them, sticky and warm, air so thick between them Jonghyun could reach out and touch it. Taemin keeps his eyes on his feet. If Jonghyun touched him, would he start, look up? Shrink away? Lean into it?

Nothing. Taemin’s probably putting his everything into staying on his feet, putting one in front of the other, keeping his eyes open. What would he have left for Jonghyun? Jonghyun doesn’t know how he’s supposed to tell that to his heart, beating triple time, racing ahead of him.

“Did they feed you, Taemin-ah?”

“Mm.”

Jonghyun hesitates with his fingers curled in the handle of his door. “Should we just go home?” Hesitates some more. “Will you be okay?”

Taemin gets in first. He tells Jonghyun, “You said you’d drive me around, it’s too late to back out,” while Jonghyun’s busy remembering how. Then, to his window, “I don’t know when the next time will be.”

Not food…fresh air?

_Let’s go back up on the roof, Taemin-ah. Let’s go back to that day. The exact second your lips touched mine. The part where I said I liked you._

Yongdeok hyung should be at home right now, asleep. It’s just him and Taemin and the night. Him and Taemin and the night and this feeling.

_You can feel it too, right, Taeminnie?_

Jonghyun takes him to the river.

As they walk their hands brush, an accident or a secret. Every time Jonghyun sneaks a glance at Taemin, Taemin’s not looking back, eyes on the sidewalk, no cracks or tree roots to trip over, just darkness. It swallows them up and when they hit the next streetlight the breeze picks up, blows Taemin’s hair in his face, carries Jonghyun’s voice far, far away. So it’s okay if Jonghyun’s staring. It’s okay if he can’t stop. It’s okay if time stops, if he stays like this forever, and it’s okay Taemin looks like it to him. Forever. It’s all okay until he reaches out, tucks Taemin’s hair behind his ear, slides his hand down Taemin’s back, takes his hand, because that’s when Taemin meets his eyes.

There’s a bench right over there. Good. Jonghyun’s not sure how longer his legs will hold him up. Taemin follows him so easily, sitting down next to him, fingers brushing apart, but words come so much harder for them both, silence thickening, sharpening, breaking Jonghyun’s skin. He can’t tell Taemin what to say this time. He can’t tell himself anything. Taemin likes him. Taemin loves him. Taemin wants him. So why is he sitting here with his throat closing up and the world closing in? Why is his body so stupid, mouth dry, skin prickling, heart pounding on his ribs like it wants out.

Why is he trying to lie to himself? Why, why, why. He knows.

Jonghyun saw it in Taemin’s face long before Taemin finds it in himself to say it. “I can’t.” It doesn’t hurt any less. It hurts so much. “We can’t.”

Too fast, voice trembling, Jonghyun tells him, “We can, Taemin-ah.” If he could make Taemin believe it, if he could make Taemin believe in him, if Taemin would just look at him. “Is it Dahae? I’m breaking up with her, I’ll break up with her.”

Her name tastes like shit and it comes out all wrong, rushed and desperate, like a plea or an excuse, but not a lie. He’s not lying. Jonghyun reaches for Taemin, taking his face in his hands, raising Taemin’s chin. Taemin meets his eyes like it hurts.

“It’s me,” Taemin says.

What is Jonghyun supposed to say to that? What could he? Taemin’s fingers curl around his wrists but he doesn’t tug Jonghyun away. Doesn’t make Jonghyun stop touching him, just waits for him to let go.

How can he?

Taemin’s eyes follow him when Jonghyun turns away, to the grass at their feet, the sky over their heads, the world closing in around them. Jonghyun tries to give himself time. Tries not feeling. Tries to ignore every last thing inside him as it grinds to dust, but maybe that’s worse, because Taemin’s right here, warm and soft, moonlight caressing his cheek, his hair in Jonghyun’s place, and maybe Jonghyun’s heart will burst before it breaks.

“Are you going to spend your whole life alone?”

“This is my life right now, hyung,” Taemin says with difficulty. “Our lives.”

“But someday you’ll say yes to some other guy.” And just like that, Taemin can’t look at him again. Won’t. Jonghyun deserves it. He deserves worse. “What? That’s not what you meant?”

Taemin needs a minute just to get the words out. “I can’t ask you to wait for me.”

“I don’t need you to ask, Taemin-ah. I can wait until you’re ready. After promotions, right?”

Somehow Taemin’s smiling at him. For him.

“That’s months from now,” Taemin says. “And then it’ll be your turn, and then maybe Shinee’s.” He digs his shoe into the grass at their feet, hands clenched around the edge of the bench, knuckles white. And then he says it. “Hyung.” For the first time in Jonghyun’s life, he doesn’t want to hear it. He wishes he’d met Taemin around the neighborhood instead of the practice room, wishes he hadn’t wasted so much time, that he’d gotten to Taemin before SM and the rest of the world did. Wishes they’d been born closer together, that they’d met each other later, that it were okay for him to rage at Taemin, plead with him, kiss Taemin until Taemin kisses him back, hurt Taemin before Taemin hurts him, tell him he won’t stay friends, he won’t stay in his life, make him choose, bend him until he breaks. Wishes that he’d realized back then that they would end up here, park bench in the dead of night in the dead of summer, Taemin so beautiful in the moonlight, telling him, “If we got caught, if something happened to you because of me, I couldn’t live with myself.” Taemin has to stop to breathe, tight, shaky, smiling harder. “Or to Shinee, or the others. We can’t do that to them, hyung.”

“So we won’t get caught.”

Stupid. Useless.

“We already did.”

“You think no one knows about Kibummie? Everyone does.”

He’s hurting himself, Taemin too, but he always fucks everything up. Even this. Even _Taemin._

“Nobody knows about me,” Taemin says. “Just you guys. And now Yongdeok hyung, I guess. I’ve never told the company or Manager hyung, or my parents.”

Jonghyun fumbles for his hand.

“Us, Taeminnie.”

No good. Taemin doesn’t move, just tenses up, smile twisting, withering, dying. “I’d have to look your mom in the face, too.”

“We can take our time. We don’t have to tell anyone.” Jonghyun’s so far ahead of himself now, he’s not thinking this through, he knows that, but please. _Please._ “As long as we have each other, as long as you don’t let go, that’s enough.”

“It’s not, though.” Taemin squeezes his hand. Jonghyun hangs on tight, lacing their fingers together, squeezing back, _please, Taeminnie, don’t do this to me, PLEASE,_ but all that gets him is, “It’s already so hard on you, hiding from the people who don’t know you. I don’t wanna hold you back.”

“You think my mom could hate you?” Jonghyun can barely get the words out, throat closing, head spinning. “You don’t think she’d understand me?”

“You’re her only son, hyung. How could you take me home to her?”

“Why are we even talking about this? Let’s date first. Let’s just try.”

Taemin smiles again, small, painful. “You don’t date just to date.”

“I can’t marry anyone, Taemin-ah. Not you, not anyone.”

“When you’re older—”

“Don’t tell me to find someone else,” Jonghyun says over him, too loud, voice shaking. Whole body shaking, his hands too, but it’s okay if Taemin knows. “I don’t know how it took me this long to find you.” It’s not okay. He’s not okay, which means Taemin isn’t, either. Which means nothing is. “It’ll be hard, it’ll be lonely, I can’t do anything for you, I might hurt you, I know all that. We both do. But how can I listen to you? If I leave you alone now, you don’t know how lonely you’ll be.”

Taemin has to look away just to say, “I know I couldn’t live without you,” in a voice that tears Jonghyun apart, small and stuffed up, so close to breaking. “Could you live without me?”

“We’re not even dating and now you’re talking about breaking up.” That’s not an answer, that’s just useless. “It doesn’t have to end like that, you know.” _It doesn’t have to end._ When Jonghyun reaches up to brush Taemin’s tears away Taemin shrinks away, hiding his face in his hands. It takes everything inside Jonghyun to let him, then some more to sit here with this bitter taste in his mouth, until it’s too much to keep it in. “Taeyeon noona and Baekhyunnie, me and Shin Sekyung…this is me and you, Taeminnie.”

Taemin makes this noise, a sob or a sigh or a laugh, long and ragged, sticking in Jonghyun’s chest.

“I don’t know what I’m talking about, I’ve never dated and you’re the one who got caught before. That’s what you’re thinking, right? It’s okay, it makes sense,” he says into his hands. “Shin Sekyung-ssi wasn’t the wrong person, though. They hated you for dating, not for dating someone like her. If you had to date someone…” Jonghyun doesn’t have to date anyone. He didn’t date her because she was someone else’s ideal woman, someone else’s perfect daughter-in-law, his perfect match, they looked good together, whatever. He dated her because he liked her. _I love you, Taemin-ah. I want_ you. _If you won’t have me I don’t care who takes me._ “You don’t know what it’s like. I’m the first man you’ve looked at, right?”

Jonghyun has no right to say anything except _yes_ and _you’re right, I don’t,_ but he’s too far gone, voice coming out rushed and strangled as he says, “You’re the last. You’re the only person I’ll ever look at again.” Would it sound like lies to Taemin? He’s all Jonghyun knows right now. All he can see. His whole world. “You feel like forever, Taemin-ah. I don’t know how it’s taken us this long. I don’t know how to go back. I don’t want to.”

“I don’t, either.”

Desperation rises in Jonghyun, so sudden it knocks the breath out of his body.

“Then _why?”_

“I told you.” Taemin keeps his head down, hands closing into fists. “I can’t make you happy. I can’t take responsibility for you. You need someone who can.”

“I don’t need you to decide that for me.”

Taemin tells his knees, “I told you, hyung, it’s for me. I don’t even know if I can be there for you,” and maybe Jonghyun snaps a little, reaching for him again, raising his chin, because if Taemin can say these things then he can see what he’s doing to Jonghyun. But Jonghyun’s thumbs catch Taemin’s tears, and it’s worse, so much worse, seeing what Taemin’s done to himself, eyes red, mouth wrenched and miserable. “What if I hurt you? I hurt you all the time already. I say stupid stuff and I ignore you and I never know what to do. That or I can’t do it.”

Taemin never cries. Never. And now Jonghyun’s made him and if he held him Taemin would stiffen in his arms, push him away, maybe check the bushes, stare out into the near dark, maybe get up and start walking. His own tears won’t come, like gravel in his throat, glass in his lungs. Finding words turns him inside out, and he says with this thing that isn’t his voice, raw and broken, black and bloody, “So, what, you’ll just break hyung’s heart? You think you’re not hurting me right now?” _You think you’re not hurting Taeminnie? Shut up. Stop being so fucking selfish._ Stop. “You’re scared. You’re running away. You won’t get far. I’m not going anywhere, Taemin-ah.”

“I’m not, either,” Taemin gets out. “Forever, hyung.”

Jonghyun can’t take this anymore. He has to let go. Look away. Tear his hair, beat his breast, yell, cry, beg. Hunger strike. Get on his knees and stay there until Taemin comes to him, covers him in kisses, tells Jonghyun he was wrong, that he needs him and he loves him and he wants him. Takes Jonghyun and never lets him go again.

He’d never get up again. And anyway, Taemin wouldn’t leave him here in the dark, any more than he’d let the sun find Jonghyun here. People would laugh and point and someone would recognize him and take a picture of him and post it online. Shinee’s Jonghyun, beggar. He looks homeless. He’s gone crazy.

Just another day in their lives.

“Fine.” Each breath is a struggle, faster, tighter. “Tell me you don’t want me. Tell me you don’t love me.”

Taemin won’t do it. “I love you.”

He never does what he’s told.

“Tell me you don’t, Taemin-ah. Tell me I’m not a man to you. Tell me you want someone better. Tell me you hate me. Let me hate you for once, just for a while.”

“I’m sorry, hyung.”

“Don’t tell me that. How much of a loser do you think I am?”

“Hate me, but don’t hate yourself.” Taemin’s hand lands on his arm. There’s no part of Jonghyun that wants to throw it off, so small and soft and warm Jonghyun could die. “I wish you could see the you I see. I don’t know how to make you.”

Taemin won’t give Jonghyun his love, so Jonghyun should just love himself?

If Taemin can’t love him, how could he?

And now Jonghyun’s lying to himself. More than anyone ever has, more than anyone ever will, more than he ever should, Taemin loves him. Taemin. And somehow Jonghyun is still nowhere. The stars will fade and the moon will hide its face, the days will get shorter, the leaves will fall, the river will freeze over, and he’ll be right here, same as always. Alone.

Taemin is so close he can feel his warmth. If he leaned in he could smell his shampoo.

“How long do we have?” he says.

“I should call Yongdeok hyung soon.”

Taemin’s day ended after dark, and this one will begin before it’s light.

Jonghyun’s voice comes to him from a million miles away. “You want me to take you home?”

Jonghyun said it without thinking, but now he has to. The dorm? Taemin’s parents’ place?

“I’ll call Yongdeok hyung,” Taemin says again. Then, to his knees, “You don’t have to stay with me.”

Taemin’s fingers are digging into his arm, too tight, painful. When Jonghyun takes his hand again he stiffens, then slowly, slowly relaxes, shoulder pressing into Jonghyun’s, knee bumping his.

They sit.

“Jonghyunnie hyung.”

Somehow he’s still talking. Somehow Jonghyun is, too.

“Taemin-ah.”

“Don’t go back to her.”

_If it’s for you, I won’t. If it’s for myself…_

“You won’t take me. Maybe she will.”

“I love you.” Taemin’s breath is coming so fast he chokes on the words, hitched, hiccupping. It’d be better if he kept them in, kept everything in, the way he always does. Instead he says it again. “I love you, hyung.” And again, “I love you, I just, I can’t.”

It would have been better if Jonghyun had brought him back to the dorm, let Jinki and Minho overhear, maybe let Taemin sleep and waited another night to get his heart broken. It would’ve been better if Jonghyun never looked at Taemin the way he’s looking at him now, better if he’d never looked at Taemin on the roof that day, sunlight dancing in his hair, so beautiful Jonghyun forgot how to breathe. Better if Taemin hadn’t run away from Jonghyun that night and come here. Better if no one had followed him.

“I shouldn’t have taken you back here. I’m sorry.”

“I want to be normal. I just want to be normal.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Taeminnie,” Jonghyun says bitterly. “There’s nothing wrong with us. It’s this fucking world.”

“It’s our lives,” Taemin says again, and then, “Hyung. Please don’t hate me.”

“You won’t let me love you, either. What am I supposed to do? Tell me what to do.”

“Don’t go back,” Taemin says. “Promise me.”

“Then you promise me you won’t look at anyone else,” Jonghyun says before he can stop himself. He doesn’t even try. Doesn’t wait out the pain in his chest, this black feeling. “You said you can’t ask me to wait, but I’m asking you. Don’t look at other guys. Don’t think about them. If they touch you think of me. If they smile at you. If they say your name. I’ll be thinking about you.”

Of all the things Jonghyun’s said tonight, this is what makes Taemin meet his eyes.

“There’s no one else, hyung,” Taemin says, eyes shining like this is so important, this is the most important thing. “When I said it I meant it. There won’t be.”

“But you won’t take me? If you want me, if you don’t—I’m yours.” Jonghyun can’t take much more of this. Pretty soon he’s going to take Taemin in his arms, take him and run, drag him back to the car, lock him in, start driving, make Taemin hate him, but right now Jonghyun’s just sitting here crying. He thinks he’s crying. “Don’t tell me to find someone else, I already told you. Don’t make me say it again. Don’t. Please, just take me in.”

Instead of all the things Jonghyun wants to hear, all the things Taemin should say, Jonghyun gets Taemin’s face breaking like glass, his voice twisted up so tight it hurts, “Not her, hyung. I hate what she does to you.”

“I’m going crazy.”

“Promise?”

Jonghyun can’t. Jonghyun won’t. Jonghyun doesn’t know what’s good for him. Jonghyun doesn’t fucking care. He told Taemin he loves him and all he wants to talk about is _her._

“Take care of yourself, so I can stop worrying about you. Love yourself as much as I love you.” Jonghyun means it, but why does it taste like goodbye? He keeps going. “It might be a while before I’m okay to talk again.”

Taemin hesitates, hand caught mid-air, tears standing in his eyes, face telling Jonghyun _You’re not okay right now, but I will be. It’s okay if you leave without me,_ and suddenly Jonghyun’s the one can’t look anymore, head down, shaking, sobbing for breath. Taemin strokes his hair back from his face, gentle, tender. Jonghyun should knock his hand away.

“Make your call, Taeminnie,” he says. “I’ll wait.”

 

Jonghyun makes it as far as his car before he breaks down. Somehow the sun still comes up, and that’s where it finds him. He’s spent the last few hours learning that closing his eyes won’t make anything go away, but the light hurts all over again, searing his eyelids red until they look like the rest of his insides. And then when he gives in, opens his eyes, lets the world back in, it’s just how he left it. Green and stuffy and shitty, joggers and walkers, cute dogs, the people who couldn’t fall back to sleep and the people who couldn’t wait for their alarm to ring. And Jonghyun. He’s lasted…six hours without Taemin’s love. He has the rest of his life to go.

It’s going to be hot today. 80s again, probably. He’s already sweating, and he can’t tell if that’s because he’s him or he’s on five hours of sleep for the last forty-eight or because this summer is a living fucking hell.

It’s everything. Nothing. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

Jonghyun starts the car. Air conditioning. Now what? _Where?_

Hell.

Close enough.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” Ahjumma says, wrinkling her nose at him.

Dahae? Who knows.

“It’s my money,” Jonghyun says into his bottle. “It’s my life.”

“Aigoo. Did I say otherwise?” She clicks her tongue at him, reaching over and pinching his cheek. It hurts, almost as much as the rest of him does. “Look at you, it’s broad daylight and you’re already drunk.” If only. No matter how much he drinks it tastes like water, goes down like fire, burns up before it reaches his bloodstream. “Does she know you’re here?”

Oh. Heeyeon.

“Not my girlfriend. Girl friend. Friend who’s a girl.”

“Aigoo, aigoo, aigoo. Are men and women ever friends?”

Heeyeon. Blue Night. Yesterday was Monday, because Taemin said, _I’m going on Blue Night on Monday, did you forget?_ And Jonghyun’s tried so hard, he’s trying so fucking hard, but it’s still impossible. And now Taemin’s here again, trapped inside and fighting to get out, tearing Jonghyun to pieces. His voice comes out in shreds.

“There's someone. He—” He. God knows how she’s looking at him now. So what? She probably knows who Jonghyun is, and now she probably thinks she knows what he is, but what is he supposed to do about that? Without Taemin he’s nothing. He’s no one. “You've met him, so you'd know. Can't hate him.”

He’s not wrong.

_How are we wrong, Dahae-yah?_

Ahjumma has him all figured out. “You fought with your dongsaeng, no wonder. Just look at what he has to put up with. Are you drinking so you can call him, is that what this is? Save your liver and give me your phone. Make his life harder.”

_Hyuuuuuung~. I’m tired of getting calls from strangers telling me where to pick you up. I’m just, I’m so tired. Why is it always me?_

Why NOT?

“It’s always gonna be you.”

Jonghyun doesn’t get hit by a car crossing the street, so he ends up at MBC, staring into the bathroom mirror, hair plastered to his forehead, chin dripping, water splashed down his front, squeaking under his shoes. And again. Again. Again. Should he try slapping himself next? Sink his fist into the Jonghyun staring back at him? He goes and sits on the toilet instead, but there’s no hiding, not from himself.

Why is he such a piece of shit. No wonder Taemin didn’t want him. Stupid. Useless. Shitty. Except he did, so much it hurt, so much Jonghyun only has to look at him to hurt him, so much he’s probably hurting him right now, with every single breath Taemin takes, with every beat of his heart, and Yongdeok hyung won’t do anything about it, all he knows are points A, B, C, D, E, F, Z. Jonghyun _told_ him.

Jonghyun can’t tell anyone anything. He can’t, anything. He just, he can’t do this anymore.

_Are those tears? Are you fucking_ crying _right now?_

Taemin’s will have dried by now. Maybe hers haven’t. He made her cry then, too. And now he’s ended up here, fist over his mouth whenever shoes squeak across the floor, stall doors bang shut, flush, tap, rinse, wash, repeat, everything building up and building up and building up, until finally he’s alone with it again.

This feeling.

All he is, everything inside him, anyone else can take it. Anyone. Just, someone, please. He doesn’t care anymore.

He doesn’t care.

“You’re so quiet tonight,” Heeyeon says, then steals the time he was about to buy. “When we’re not on air, duh.”

He needs to rest his voice, is all.

“How did yesterday go?”

She didn’t listen?

“It was my day off, Jonghyun-ssi. What about SM Town?” She didn’t go? “Next time give me tickets. I’m poor, I can’t afford concerts.” She smiles at him over her script. “Just for future reference, if you don’t let me into your showcase you don’t wanna know what’ll happen to you.”

His showcase. His album. His future.

Maybe someone else in the company will find someone to take them. Maybe that someone will be the wrong age or the wrong gender, with the wrong background or the wrong face or the wrong fandom. Maybe Dispatch will stalk them and photograph them and show the world how wrong they are, and maybe the world will make sure they know it, too. Maybe they’ll get their lives ruined, throw it all away for love, run off and get married, keep running until they find someplace where they can, and Jonghyun will be the next shiny distraction, the way Taemin is now.

As long as they don’t see his insides. As long as Taemin doesn’t. As long as Taemin keeps smiling.

“If you can’t talk, what about drinking?”

Until he can’t get up. Until he ends up on the other side of the bottle and Heeyeon tells him, _You’re making this way harder than it has to be. He’s scared, Jonghyun-ssi. Give him time to come around. You pushed too hard._ And then he would get drunker and drunker, until Ahjumma yanked his phone out of his hand and Taemin put his entire life on hold and came to save Jonghyun, and when Jonghyun woke up he would still be there.

So never.

_Sometimes things don’t work out, Jonghyun-ssi. And some relationships aren’t worth risking. He turned you down because he loves you. I know it’s killing you right now, but if he’s not confident, it’s better he’s honest with you. Would you rather lose him for good?_

The end.

His car again. It takes him forever to find it, across the street and down…three blocks? Four. Jonghyun left it to bake all day, and now he has to air it out, propping the door open, slumping back in the driver’s seat. But it’s not about survival anymore, he could sit here forever, because the moon is in the sky. Even it doesn’t want to look at him, turned away, hiding its face, crescent like an eyelash, small enough to fit in his palm.

Whatever. Jonghyun doesn’t want to look, either.

Would Taemin have gotten home yet? Would he be sleeping? Is it still today for him, or is it tomorrow? Show Champion, he said. Maybe his alarm went off just now. Maybe he’s in Ilsan already.

It doesn’t matter. He can’t go back. If he goes back to the dorm and he sees Taemin he doesn’t know what he’ll do, and if he goes back and he doesn’t…

No.

Home. He should go home and cry for a million years. His mom will put up with it, the way she always does. Asking him what’s wrong. Telling him that whatever it is, he’s strong enough to get through it. Telling him he needs to eat, telling him he’s getting too skinny. Undoing his blinds. Cleaning his floor. Asking him to go to the bank, the store, the market, the dry cleaners, to return this dish to Next Door, give the security guard ice cream, if there's none in the freezer go buy some, don't drive, walk, the sun is out, do you want to visit the old neighborhood with Mom? Anywhere there’s light.

_I’m in love with Taeminnie, Mom. He’s in love with me. He thinks you’ll hate him if I take him home. How could you? How could anyone?_

Jonghyun can’t even try. It’s been one single day, and he misses him so much it feels like his insides will come out. How could his mom put him back together? That's too much to ask, and he doesn’t even want her to. Only Taemin. And if Taemin won’t do it, then he can break him some more. Smaller pieces are easier to throw away.

If Jonghyun called him, would he answer?

Jonghyun has nothing to say that Taemin would want to hear. It’s still today for him. Even when the sun rises again, sets, rises, sets, rises, sets.

_Forever, Taemin-ah. Hyung can’t help it._

That’s nothing Taemin doesn’t know. He can’t help it, either.

_Forever, hyung._

He can’t go back.

_Not her. Promise?_

He can’t.

Jonghyun starts the car.


	8. Chapter 8

“Um. Sunbaenim. You’re standing on my skirt.”

Huh? Oh. Taemin steps away, looks up just as the girl cuts her eyes away. Most of EXO is older than him and half of them spent their trainee years thinking they’d go first, and none of them stopped babying him when he did. Red Velvet are the first hoobaes to walk in fear of him. Kind of.

“Sorry,” is as far as he gets before he falters, trying to catch her eye, see her face, not forget her name like sunbaes used to do to him sometimes, all the ones he hated, “Seulgi-yah?”

Yeah. Seulgi. Who knows what’s changed her face the most, makeup, time, that first year of dieting hell, when Jonghyun would buy Taemin snacks and Jinki would eat them, and Kibum’s idea of helping was telling Taemin girls had it worse…but when she turns her smile on him he knows her. Practice room. Before and after school, every day. She was one of the only 94 kids who didn’t try to talk down to him, maybe because they didn’t talk at all. Just kept their heads down and danced.

“Congratulations, by the way,” she says. “For winning yesterday.”

“Ah. Thanks.”

If she waited another half hour maybe she could’ve said it for today. Taemin spent the morning and afternoon climbing up to the top three, and now they’re all back for the encore, crowded together backstage. And if Taemin had filled up his phone with any of the people here, if he knew how to make friends outside the practice room, maybe he wouldn’t be squashed in the corner with the people who haven’t even had the chance to make connections. That and Yongdeok hyung said _I need some air_ and meant _I need a cigarette_ , and Minho clapped Taemin on the shoulder, told him, _See you out there, okay, Taemin-ah? I have to pee, if there’s a line I’m dead,_ because today is Music Core. And now Taemin is alone again.

He’s always alone.

“We trained together, I remember you. You don’t remember me? You can call me oppa if it’s more comfortable,” he tries. Seulgi smiles again, nods awkwardly. Not as awkward as the girls over her shoulder, though, shifting their weight, glancing at him. “The rest of you, too.”

Their manager throws Taemin a grin over their heads, sharp, ironic. “You’re 93, Taemin-ah. Joohyunnie’s 91.”

SM must have taken him off f(x). He used to tell Taemin, _It’s okay if it’s you, but keep your hyungs away from the girls’ dorm, okay? Men make my life so much harder._

And now Joohyun tells him, “I started training the year after Shinee debuted.”

That explains why Taemin can’t remember her face, because there’s not much else that could. She must be their visual.

“Sunbae—oppa.” Seung…Seungyeon? “Oppa, you changed your hair.”

Seungwan.

“Oh. Yeah.”

Taemin doesn’t know how Jonghyun’s kept his blond for so long, no matter how cool he thinks it looks. Taemin spent a whole month after his MV bleaching it, raw scalp, split ends, mornings wasted at the salon, hats on the days he remembered, stares and whispers on the days he forgot, and now he’ll spend months dying it black, until his roots grow out and it goes back to normal. Until everything does.

And white hair suited Dispatch better.

“There’s no way they’d let us change ours,” the fourth girl says.

“You don’t like green?”

She half smiles. “Not green hair, at least.”

Taemin gets that. It’s always easier to let the company do everything, all the thinking and planning and decision-making, but they never do any of the explaining, and Taemin’s always stuck doing the smiling. With the smaller things, things he could decide for himself, his thoughts, feelings, likes, dislikes, tastes, somehow it’s always so much harder to give in. And it’s always meant nothing to the company, and everything to him.

“I’m yellow,” Taemin tells her. “I wanted to be purple.”

She nods. Fidgets. Plays with her hair, green and all. “People keep saying we all look the same. It’s the only way they can tell us apart.”

_They all look the same. The photocards._

_Sure, they’re all cute._

“People say a lot of things, Sooyoung-ah,” Joohyun cuts in.

Maybe if Taemin were Jonghyun he would know the right one. But he’s not, he’s himself, so it’s better he keeps his mouth shut, because everything he ever says is wrong. All he’s good for is dancing and maybe singing, maybe not, because half the shows he goes on LAR is pushing it. He’s lucky he’s good for that much.

It’s enough that he is.

It should be.

“Good luck, oppa,” Seulgi says once Minho’s come and gone, and the five minute call goes out. 

“You, too.” She pulls this weird face, like Taemin’s said something weird, like he’s the weird one. Taemin tries a smile on her. “You never know. I never thought we would win until we did. And I wasn’t sure I would.”

A hand closes over his shoulder, pushing him forward, towards the stage. Seulgi makes another kind of face, the kind that tries too hard to say nothing at all. Her manager.

“There’s this thing called math, Taemin-ah,” he says. “Either it adds up or it doesn’t.”

 

This time it does.

All that means right now is that instead of silences, next times, pats on the back and the loudest, stupidest pop hits Yongdeok hyung can find on the radio, Taemin has his half-smile in the rearview mirror and Minho beaming at him, so hard and long his face has to be killing him. Telling him stuff like, “Thanks, Taemin-ah. Yesterday doesn’t count. We’re not counting it.”

“Yep. I was holding back this whole time just so you could announce it~”

Minho pinches his cheek, but then his phone buzzes. Taemin’s too. Again. And again. Again again again. Taemin only reaches for it to stuff it deeper into his pocket, but once he has it in his hand, pressed to his skin, it’s too hard to let go. It always is, but tonight is a good night, so Taemin keeps his eyes on the city and lets himself get away with it.

“Jinki hyung,” Minho says. “He wants to know if you want chicken.”

Which means, “He’s asking if he should buy one or two.”

“So two, right?”

Taemin presses his cheek to the glass. “Are you having any?”

“Nope~”

“Then one. I probably won’t either.”

“You tired?” Minho says. “You can’t be dieting at this point, you’re getting too skinny.” Taemin doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say to that, but Minho doesn’t give him any time to figure it out. “Aren’t you going to ask about me?”

“You stopped working out when I did, but you keep gaining weight.”

Minho asked for it, but so did Taemin. He flattens himself against his door, but Minho’s reach is too long. He barely has to lean in to pinch Taemin again, his stomach this time. How many mornings wasted on the gym when he could have been sleeping, and he’s already going soft.

“I did stop,” Minho says, “but that’s because I talked to the writer and she thought I was too built to play a nerd. She wants me skinnier.”

Taemin’s phone buzzes again.

“What does she know? You said it was a concentration thing.”

Phone. Again.

“It’s her character, Taemin-ah.” Impossibly, Minho’s smile widens. “Mine, too.”

“Oh. _Oh._ You got the part.”

Yongdeok hyung gets there first. “Congratulations, Minho-yah.”

Since he said it, it’s okay if Taemin skips to the important part. “If I have to eat you do too. Tell hyung two chickens. Beer?” Minho teeters, two seconds from going for his phone now and complaining to Taemin later, his next date with the scale in his bathroom, but then shakes his head, waves his hand. “What? Nerds can’t be fat, either?”

Yongdeok hyung clicks his tongue, shakes his head. “I don’t even know what that word means anymore. That was the first thing to go when I took this job.”

Even if Taemin got to eat whatever he wanted, it would take a lot more than that for him to look like Yongdeok hyung, but then, it’s not like Yongdeok hyung gets to, either. They both fill up on the same crap every day, kimbap and sandwiches crammed between schedules. The difference is it’s okay if Yongdeok eats his feelings, boredom, exhaustion, irritation, too much time in the car, not enough sleep, whatever. If Taemin started he’d never stop.

Taemin squeezes his phone tighter. Smiles harder. “Good for you, hyung. Really. Good job.” He goes in for a one-armed hug, and Minho’s there in half a second, gone in another. And all that’s left is, “Have you told the others?”

“I only heard this afternoon,” Minho says. “Jinki hyung was there, and I knew I’d see you. I’ll catch Jonghyun hyung and Kibummie later.”

Taemin lasts as long as he can. A few heartbeats. “Have you seen them lately?”

Once he says them, the words don’t leave him, pressing in on his chest, heavy, strange. He doesn’t know how to keep them off his face, if it would be safer to go back to his window.

“I saw Kibummie yesterday,” Minho says. “His musical is doing another run this winter. I went like four times already, but I guess I’ll go again. I have to make up for you three.”

Yeah. Window. Seoul. “And Jonghyunnie hyung?”

Asking is bad enough, but then Minho says, “When was the last time you did?” and Taemin thinks he might die trying to answer that. But it’s Minho, not Jonghyun, so he won’t make Taemin to talk. One look at Taemin’s face, the half he can’t hide, and he goes on, “He made such a big deal about how me and Jinki hyung couldn’t look after you, and then he went back home as soon as you hit the worst part.” He nudges Taemin. “Did you guys fight or something?”

Yongdeok hyung’s eyes flick between them. “All he’s done is work since he went on Blue Night—”

“No,” Taemin cuts across him loudly, because all it takes are those two little words, and he’s back there again. If he closes his eyes, if he blinks, he’ll see Jonghyun’s face again. What Taemin did to it. To him.

“Don’t try lying, Taeminnie. Your face always gives you away,” Minho says. “It must’ve been something stupid, you guys never fight over big stuff. Make up with him, okay? He was spending too much time cooped up in there, he was like Jinki hyung 2.0. Worse. He must have been going crazy.”

_I sound crazy, right? I’ve gone crazy. Really…_

Taemin bites his tongue until he tastes blood. “He’ll be busy soon, too.”

It’s September on Monday. Taemin has one week left, which means Jonghyun does too. Then Jonghyun can have it. All of it. Pre-production. Recording. Photoshoots. MV. Promotions. Taemin’s just going to close his eyes and sleep. Eat his mom’s food. Steal all Jongin’s free time. Watch the world go by. Wait for his life to begin again. Wait for Shinee to come back, and Taemin can see him again. Wait for the day he can stop pretending he’s not, then wait for the day he stops waiting. Just wait.

Minho nods, smiles. “Back to normal. As normal as he gets.”

_Vrrrrt._

Taemin feels his look well before Minho nudges him.

“This is why I never text you. You’ve gotten like ten million messages in the last five minutes. Aren’t you going to reply?”

It’s only been five minutes for Minho. It’s been five million years for Taemin.

 

Ten by the time Jinki and Minho let him go to bed. Taemin’s eyes take too long to adjust to the darkness of their room, so he has to feel his way, clumsy, blind. When he closes his eyes, all he has is his own breathing, the hum of the AC, dead air in his ears instead of five people telling him what to do, bass, the beat, his own voice playing back to him. Silence. And when finally he gives up, gives in, opens them again, all he can see is the ceiling over his head, washed in the glow of his phone.

_taeminnie!!!!!!!!_

_u!!!!_

_did!!!!!_

_it!!!!!_

_again^^_

Taemin shouldn’t have looked. He shouldn’t have let himself. If it was dark and lonely in here before, it’ll only get darker and lonelier, the longer it takes him to drift off. His mom always tells him not to look at his phone before bed, that staring at the screen takes another half hour of sleep away from you.

_jinki hyung got chicken and lied and said its for u rt?_

_eat it all urself_

_dont stay up late tho. sleep._

_i told u to take care of urself._

_listen to me for once, okay? just this once_

_good night taeminah_

Taemin will have to count his breaths tonight. He has to sleep. Tomorrow will be the same as today, and there’s no way he can do it on one hour of sleep. Three was bad enough.

He has to lock his phone. Turn it off. Lose it somewhere first thing when tomorrow does come, the first place he can find. Look away again. Stop going back. Stop scrolling up. Stop his heart from beating, his hands from working, air from getting through this thing that used to be his throat. Just _stop._

Yesterday probably lasted as long as the birth and death of the universe, the way time moves for Taemin now, but one flick of his fingers and it’s right here.

_taeminah im so proud of you_

_honestly i cried_

_if i could have voted for u a million times i would have_

_only voted 3 times^^_

And then the day before.

_i see sm let u go. or maybe mbc did? anyway ur live was amazing as expected. how are ur lungs stronger than mine, u still smoke. at least i know yongdeok hyung does. dont give in taeminah. dont smoke. ur voice isnt allowed to change._

Day before that.

_u changed ur hair_

Last week.

_whats with the thigh belt. garter belt? nvmnd. if u dont know dont ask coordi noonas. its better u dont_

Ten days ago.

_u did well today taeminah_

And then finally, that day. It was always going to come.

_have u slept?_

_go back to the dorm tonight._

_sleep taeminnie._

_dont worry._

_at dahaes_

Every night, it always comes. Why does he do this to himself? Why is he so stupid? Why.

Taemin closes his fist over it again, ghostly white between his fingers, then closes his eyes, and waits for everything to go black. Which it does. His phone always falls asleep before he does. Jonghyun is still in his hand, at his fingertips, one single text away. Just a few keys, just something stupid, something Taemin’s said a thousand times before, like _go to sleep_ or _bug minho instead, if he hasnt told u yet then ask him why,_ and then press send. There’s no way Jonghyun’s not lying awake too, wherever he is. His mom’s house. Hers.

He said he’d come find Taemin.

Taemin buries his face in his pillow. Squeezes his eyes shut tighter. Counts his breaths.

One. Two. Three. Four, five, six, seveneightnineten—

One.

_One._

His next try is his last one. It comes up ragged and twisted and shattered, sticking in his chest, ripping his insides up and taking pieces of him with it, and it’s all he can do not to choke on it. He has to stop. He never even cries himself to sleep, just cries and cries, then cries some more, until there’s nothing left inside him. And then some more, until the sun rises and the rest of the world wakes up and he has to check and see if he looks as ugly as he feels.

He always looks fine. If Jonghyun saw him, maybe he would know. He’s the only one who ever does. He’s the only one.

_I can’t do this anymore, hyung. Can you? I’m not okay. How could you be?_

_I miss you. Don’t you miss me at all? Doesn’t it hurt you to talk to me, at all? I know I hurt you._

It hurts.

_You said you’d blow up my phone, you said you’d come find me, you said you’d be thinking of me, so what is this? Where are you?_

Dahae’s, probably. Not sleeping, probably. Watching her, maybe. Maybe watching his phone, waiting for Taemin to tell him why he put him back there. Waiting.

Maybe not. Taemin has no right, anyway. He has no fucking right, so he needs to fucking stop.

_Hyung. Hyung. **Hyung.**_

One.

 

-

 

Taemin wakes up.

What time is it? Is he late? Six thirty!? How the fuck did he forget to set his alarm, why didn’t Yongdeok hyung call. Fuck fuck _fuck—_

Oh.

That’s right. Promotions are over. No alarm. No Yongdeok hyung. No nothing.

Taemin flops back down. It’s too late to go back to sleep now, not with his body still singing from his morning heart attack. So he unlocks his phone instead. Maybe he can bug Jongin. If he’s in Seoul, if he’s off, there’s no way he can sleep in, he has this same problem.

_sorry about yesterday. didnt see until later. back from tour anyway. text me today._

Every time Taemin texts him these days, that’s what he says. If it’s not, _did u forget? hung out with soojungie._

Maybe Jinri was right.

Taemin skims past the other names in his contacts. Soojung. Jongin says she sleeps till noon these days. Jinki. Same thing, probably? Kibum. Busy. Minho. Busier. His drama started filming.

Jonghyun.

Taemin gets up.

His parents probably won’t hear the water, so he showers. His mom wouldn’t care if he ate everything in the fridge for breakfast, either, so he eats whatever he wants. Since he’s come back here, all she does is feed him and tell him he’s too skinny, sneak peeks at him if his door is still shut when she gets up, ask after all the hyungs. Ask after Jonghyun. When he took Taemin home from practice for the first time, she interrogated him over watermelon. She didn’t tell Jonghyun to sit comfortably until he was getting up to go, then kept him for dinner and got his mom’s number. Ever since then, he’s been her favorite.

Taemin doesn’t know what to tell her. If she knew…

No.

And Taemin doesn't have anything else to tell her. He doesn’t know. He hasn’t seen Jonghyun since that night. He hasn’t gotten a text from him in a week and half, in all this empty time. He doesn’t know anything anymore.

He made it an hour today, he slept and he ate, the only things he has left that he’s supposed to do, but that’s as much as he can take. Same as every day, he stuffs his feet into his shoes and gets out. Hallway. Elevator. Gate. Sidewalk. Sun rising, moon fading, ghost of the night sky. Somewhere under this same sky, Jonghyun is…sleeping? Trying to? Staring out his window? Yanking his blinds down because he forgot to do it last night? Hiding in his pillow because that would mean getting up? And maybe getting up would mean leaving Dahae’s arms.

Maybe he’s thinking of Taemin.

Maybe he went in already. Maybe he has an early meeting. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Taemin is so tired of running.

He keeps walking. To SM, to the training center, places in between, places they still go to eat, places he forgot shut down, places he forgot existed, to anywhere.

Today it’s the noraebang he and Jonghyun used to go to after training. And tomorrow…

 

 

“What are you doing here?”

Taemin’s walk brought him here, is all.

“This is my place, too,” Taemin says, pushing past Jinki into the dorm, like his legs haven’t turned to rubber. “Stop changing the passcode so much.”

“You forgot it again, huh.”

He forgot everything, palms sweating, mouth filled with cotton, stomach in free fall. _You stopped texting me once I stopped going on TV, hyung, what’s with that? Fan Club President is a full time job, you’re not allowed to get bored. It’s not my fault our room was a mess, you know what promotions are like. Why aren’t you at work?_

But that’s all useless, because Jonghyun isn’t here. Which, why would he be? Taemin is safe.

“Are you hungry?” Jinki says. “Hyung was about to eat.”

Is it lunchtime? There’s nothing better to do than follow Jinki to the fridge, but, “There’s no food.”

“It’s all in here.” Jinki reaches for the bowl on the bottom shelf. Bibimbap. “It’s Jonghyunnie’s turn to beg his mom.”

Taemin’s heart does this weird thing, seizing in his chest. “Jonghyunnie hyung?”

His voice came out wrong. Jonghyun’s name did. Something.

“Mm. He’s been staying here now that things got busy again,” Jinki replies like it’s nothing. He gathers two spoons and herds Taemin towards the table, butting his head against Taemin’s back. “I guess he was just waiting for you to leave~”

Probably.

When Taemin throws himself into the chair across from Jinki, Jinki ignores him for his rice, first pushing it towards Taemin, “Mm? Mm?” then digging in on his own. Gives Taemin all the time in the world to come out with, “We didn’t fight. It’s not like that.”

“I didn’t say anything, Taeminnie.”

“Minho hyung did.”

“Aigoo. Are you mad at him now, too?” Jinki shakes his head at him. “Whatever it is, don’t stay mad.”

“I’m not mad, there’s nothing to make up, with him or Jonghyunnie hyung.”

Jinki smiles. Taemin didn’t even realize there was a trap to walk into, but right away Jinki says, “Then come visit him on set with me. If I go with Jonghyunnie I’ll be stuck there forever.” Because Dahae would be there, too. Because she got the lead role. Because Minho texted Taemin a week ago just to say, _ive visited hyung so many times at blue night. he only comes here to see his girlfriend and u know how that is._ With every beat of Taemin’s stupid heart. _do u think hes worried? i told him before no kiss scene with her, theres the male lead for that._ Taemin needed an hour to learn to breathe again, and when he came back all Minho had left for him was, _come see me if u have time taeminnie. ill buy u food so just come~._ “Come on, it won’t mean anything to Minho if it’s just me.”

Taemin doesn’t know how to tell Jinki or Minho that he’d rather die. “Get Kibummie hyung to go.”

“Because you’re so busy? Taemin-ah~. I’ll buy you both chicken.”

“You can just buy me chicken now. Minho hyung’s on a diet.”

Jinki finishes his bite and puts his head down like his strings have been cut, spoon hitting the table with a clatter. “So am I.”

“You started vocal lessons again?” Taemin says.

“Mm. I’m up to an hour a day.”

“That’s good, hyung.” When that doesn’t get in anywhere, Taemin leans over and pats Jinki’s shoulder. “It’s a good thing. Good for you.”

Jinki groans. “I’d rather be fat. I got so used to just being Jinki.”

Taemin gets that. Maybe he doesn’t have a stage name, but he only ever shows their fans the good sides of himself. The only fan he has who knows every last thing about him and still loves him is Jonghyun.

Taemin pushes Jinki’s shoulder again, and when that doesn’t work, scrubs his hand through his hair, twisting his fingers in it. Jinki’s smart enough to lift his head before Taemin tries to do it for him, though.

“Did they say when Onew is coming back?” Taemin says.

“In time for the next leg of SM Town?” Jinki frowns, thinking about it. “That’s the goal, at least. That and five pounds.”

“Me, too.”

Jinki frowns some more. “Skinny people shouldn’t talk.”

Whatever. At least Jinki gains weight in places clothes can hide. “My cheeks are no joke, hyung.”

Jinki reaches over and pinches them, then flattens his palms against Taemin’s cheeks, smushing them in until his lips pucker and his eyes start to disappear and there’s no part of Taemin left that’s not relieved Jonghyun isn’t here to see just how ugly Taemin can get.

And then it’s over. Jinki picks up his spoon again. The others can go without, Minho’s eaten nothing but chicken breasts for weeks and Kibum never goes off his diet and Jonghyun never even thinks about food when it’s in front of him, but Jinki is like Taemin, he can’t not eat. He’ll have to quit drinking for a while, is all. Maybe go to the gym. Just thinking about it tires Taemin out.

Everything does, these days.

“What are you doing today?” Taemin says. “Eating and then…?”

“I was gonna go in after this,” Jinki says. “Practice.”

“Oh.”

Taemin just got here, too.

“What about you?”

What about him?

It’s only Jinki, so it’s okay if Taemin tells the truth. “I don’t know. I keep going on walks, and this time I ended up here.”

It was so easy to run away from Jonghyun during promotions, and now if Taemin looked for him it’s like he’d never find him. Everywhere Taemin goes these days they share, but Jonghyun is always somewhere else. And when he comes home tonight maybe Jinki will tell him, _Taeminnie stopped by today._

When. If. 

On his way out the door, Jinki says, “You don’t want to stick around and say hello to Jonghyunnie?”

Taemin hasn’t been alone with Jonghyun since the night he broke his heart, and who knows what he’d do to Jonghyun this time. Still, it takes so much out of Taemin to shake his head, follow him into the hallway, say, “I can see him any time.”

“I guess he might not show up till late.” Jinki hesitates, holding it open. “You could stay, too.”

“We didn’t fight, hyung. Really.”

The lock clicks behind them and the sun is as bright as Taemin left it, the sky as blue. He could walk Jinki over to SM, could poke around and say hi to some people and lie to himself some more about what he’s doing there. And if he found Jonghyun, then what?

So he says goodbye here. “Next time I come around I’ll bring some stuff from my mom. What do you want?”

“Because you’ll remember~?” Jinki laughs at the look on Taemin’s face. Taemin doesn’t know why he lets Jinki pet his hair, when he should tell him, _You keep acting like you’re any better than me, hyung._ “Anything is good. Something. Please.”

Next time. Taemin can go now. Turn around. Go back to his stupid life, his stupid room. Sleep and eat and sleep some more.

“Does hyung sleep here a lot?”

He didn’t mean to say it, he shouldn’t have said it. Jinki doesn’t give him the answer he wants, anyway. “I told you, he moved in here again.”

“No, I just thought.” He’s not thinking. If he were thinking he wouldn’t have opened his mouth. “What about Dahae-ssi?” wouldn’t have popped out.

“What about her?”

“Nothing,” but that’s not right, that’s the worst lie he’s told yet. “Just, I know he went back to her.”

“She’s his problem, Taeminnie,” Jinki tells him. “It won’t help anyone if we make her ours.”

 _Shut up shut up shut up._ “You don’t hate her?”

Jinki pinches Taemin’s cheek, hard enough to hurt a little. “It’s enough that you and Minho do.” Will he laugh again at the face Taemin’s making now? Taemin can feel it going wrong and there’s no way to stop it, nothing to hide behind, not when everything inside him looks like it would die if sunlight touched it. But Jinki just reels him into the crook of his elbow. “Let’s go see him sometime, okay? Really. He only makes it home half the time, and then it’s just an hour or two, and he has to go back to set. Dramas are so crazy.”

It’s probably worse for Dahae, she’s the lead. And if she can’t make it home, where else would Jonghyun end up, but here? Taemin’s so stupid.

So stupid. He should shrug Jinki off, tell him, _You’re right, I hate her and Minho hyung does too. If I stay away he should understand. I’ll rent a food truck for him and the whole crew, I don’t care if I can’t afford it. I don’t even care if she has some, as long as I don’t have to look her in the face._

“Sometime.”

 

More lying in bed trying so hard to sleep he probably never will. More staring at his phone. It’s a good thing he’s never bothered with pictures, or he’d be staring at Jonghyun instead. Touching his face instead of his name—

Instead of calling him. _Shit._

Shit, shit, shit.

What did he just do? For a month he’s listened to his brain and done nothing, and now it blinked and it’s too late to hang up. Too late for Taemin, because.

“Taeminnie?”

_Hyung._

That’s all, just his name, Jonghyun’s voice, and Taemin snaps in half. Before he knows what’s happening the words rush up to meet him.

“Did I wake you up? Sorry, hyung, I forgot how late it is. Sorry. I’ll hang up now—”

“Don’t hang up.”

Taemin doesn’t. Just lies there. Breathes in Jonghyun’s ear, strains to hear Jonghyun breathing in his. Breathes.

Who knows how long it’s been, how long he kept Jonghyun waiting, when finally he can say, “You sound like you just woke up.”

Taemin knows exactly how long. Since August eighteenth, since Jonghyun looked at him from across the table and said, _Go for a drive with me?_ Taemin’s heart stopped right then, but nothing else did, and now here they are.

Jonghyun doesn’t tell Taemin what he sounds like, just makes this noise, low, amused. “It’s me you’re talking to, Taemin-ah. You didn’t wake me up, I’d have to sleep for that. I’m just tired, is all.”

“Are you still at work? You better not be. It’s four in the morning.”

As soon as it’s out there he dies inside, because he won’t be able to live through it if Jonghyun tells him where he is, because where else could he be. And then Jonghyun does, “Nope. Bed,” and Taemin has two seconds where it’s him or this feeling crushing him, no air, black world, before Jonghyun catches up to his own words, pulls Taemin to safety. “Dorm.” Not Dahae’s. Not tonight. “What is it? You can’t sleep?”

_I miss you._

“My body is stuck in promotions.”

“It’s been less than a week, Taemin-ah.”

Like Taemin needs reminding. Still…

“You know my schedule better than I do,” he says, heart fluttering weirdly in his chest. When he wriggles deeper under his covers it doesn’t fly away, just beats harder, crazy, trapped. And he can’t hide from his own voice, either. “I don’t even have one right now. All I do is eat and sleep.”

Jonghyun does laugh this time. “Lucky you.” He pauses. It’s been a month since they talked, one whole month of silence, and still, Taemin doesn’t know how he’s supposed to fill it, what Jonghyun wants to hear, what he should say. Jonghyun doesn’t wait for him. “Do you even get out of bed?”

It’s been a billion years. It’s been one second. If Taemin closes his eyes he doesn’t know who he’ll see, the Jonghyun smiling into his ear or the one he broke, hands shaking, eyes red, so beautiful in the moonlight. He keeps them open.

“Maybe I should stop,” he says.

“You left all your clothes here, you know,” Jonghyun says.

Taemin does. And now he’s remembering the part where he piled all his laundry on Jonghyun’s bed and then didn’t do it, and didn’t do it, and probably left it there too. He flops over and buries his face in his pillow. “Just the good stuff.”

“Good? Jeans and T-shirts are good?” Jonghyun laughs again, that stupid, breathless laugh of his that means _you’re so crazy you make me crazy._ Taemin knows the face that goes with it, too, crinkly eyes and white teeth, smile too big for Jonghyun’s fist to hide. “What did you leave at home? Sweatpants? Tracksuits? The blue one? I bet you’re wearing it right now.”

This should be so easy, shouldn’t it? Should it be harder? Should Taemin be smiling back, hard enough to hurt?

“Wrong.”

“If you’re in bed, that’s only because you’re not wearing anything.”

Right.

Taemin’s stomach tightens and his ears go hot and he can feel Jonghyun’s voice under his skin, so deep inside, but right. “I guess if I had pajamas, I wouldn’t have to get dressed.”

“Taemin-ah~,” Jonghyun groans, like this is Taemin’s fault, like he’s the one who keeps bringing up the fact that Jonghyun’s probably naked right now. Like he’s the one who’s making things weird. “Take some of my old shirts, then. I don’t want to check if they fit me now, if they did it’d be too depressing.”

Taemin needs a minute with that one, but he doesn’t get any further than where he started. He doesn’t know how else to say it.

“You’re losing weight?” Maybe he shouldn’t ask? Maybe the fact that he even has to, that he can’t see for himself right now, that he hasn’t been to check on Jonghyun once since he went into preproduction, when Jonghyun probably sat through all Taemin’s lives just to check on him, maybe all that should be enough to kill Taemin now. But instead he tries again. “You have to eat, hyung.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Jonghyun says. Then, more gently, “I know, Taeminnie. I’m trying.” This is the part where Taemin should tell him that he’ll come around SM tomorrow and make sure, but he hesitates. Jonghyun doesn’t. “What about you?”

When it’s about Taemin, Jonghyun never does.

“I’m back up to normal. Over. My face is starting to look fat.”

Jonghyun’s supposed to laugh at him, not say in this weird voice, “You always say that, and you always look cute.”

Should Taemin have told Jonghyun he’s cute, too? He is. Always.

“Are you still in meetings?” he says instead.

There’s a thump and then a rustling noise on the other end, like that one word cut all Jonghyun’s strings, landed him flat on his back. “Mm.”

“Are you winning?”

“I don’t know, you know how they are.” Jonghyun sighs. “They don’t fight, they reason with you, until you start to think you’re the problem.”

Jonghyun is one of the smartest people Taemin knows, but that just makes everything so much harder on him. And maybe Jonghyun’s hardest on himself, but he doesn’t know how to be anyone else. It would kill him to try.

But it might kill Taemin, trying to put any of that into words, so he sticks to stuff he can say out loud. “Have you picked a title track?”

Jonghyun sighs again, louder, heavier. “They’re fine picking it later. Organically, they said. So Darwinism. The strongest tracks will end up on the album, and then the one they think will sell the best?”

“I wasn’t asking about them, I was asking about you.”

That’s the furthest Taemin’s been from joking all night, but Jonghyun laughs again.

“What?”

“You,” Jonghyun tells him. “You always say the weirdest stuff, then act like it’s so obvious. Is hyung supposed to feel stupid~?”

“Whatever.”

“It’s cute, Taeminnie.”

“You’re not,” Taemin says. Lies. But yeah. Whatever. “Whenever I ask you a question you always pretend you don’t know the answer.”

“That sounds more like you than me,” Jonghyun retorts. Next second his words catch up to them both, and it’s bad. It’s so bad Taemin has to wait it out, hide in his pillow, even though Jonghyun can’t see him. Even though Taemin wants to see Jonghyun with every single thing he has. “‘Deja-Boo.’ I don’t know if it’s my favorite, but it’s my best.”

Okay. They’re still talking about music. Taemin just has to put his heart back in his chest, find his voice, just a second. But then all he can think to say is, “Don’t tell me, tell them.”

“I’m telling you first,” Jonghyun replies. “I wanted to. You don’t want to hear about me?”

“I know it’s a good song.”

“It’s better since last time. I took it to Haesol hyung and he played with it.” Wait, who? “Zion.T, Taeminnie.” Oh. Yeah. Jonghyun’s crush. Mancrush. Jonghyun used to talk about him all the time, his style, his voice, his music, _Red Light,_ blah blah blah, and this isn’t the first time Taemin would rather not hear it. “We changed the beat and the bass line a little, added some stuff. Mostly vocals.”

“You didn’t need to.”

Jonghyun takes too long to tell Taemin he’s right, and then he doesn’t. Just asks, sharp, breathless with laughter, the kind that says it’s not funny, “Are you mad at me or something?”

“No?”

“Don’t be mad,” Jonghyun says immediately, all soft and gentle and Taemin doesn’t even know what.

“I’m not,” he says, instead of, _It should be the other way around, I should be asking you not to hate me._ But that’s just two words, just the beginning. He doesn’t know where this is coming from, where it’s going, just that it’s taking him with it. It. This feeling that’s been living inside him for weeks, stealing his sleep, eating his dreams, sending him past SM every single day. All the words he doesn’t have for Jonghyun. All the things Taemin’s body wants to say. “I wasn’t ignoring you before, hyung. I was just busy.”

“And you’re just you.”

“And you’re the one who said you needed time.”

And somehow Taemin said that out loud. He grinds his face into his pillow, squeezes his eyes shut so tight he can see spots.

“Time isn’t what I need, Taeminnie,” Jonghyun begins.

“Are we fighting?” comes flying out of Taemin. And then next second it’s, “I don’t want to fight, hyung. I keep saying the wrong thing, but it’s not to hurt you.” _I love you. I said forever. I meant it._ “I liked Deja-Boo before, I’m not lying. And you already showed it to them once, and now they’re doing things your way, right? Which means they liked it, too.”

Silence. Silence silence silence. Then, “I like it better now. _I_ do.”

“Then okay.”

“That’s it? Okay?” Jonghyun presses him. “You don’t want to see for yourself? I added a rap. It’s short and with Haesol hyung’s vocals, a third person would be too much. I’m gonna do it myself.”

It’ll be Jonghyun’s first time outside a noraebang. He hasn’t taken Taemin since they debuted, but even back then, he always wanted to do everything. All Taemin ever had to do was shake a tambourine and maybe his butt when Jonghyun remembered he wasn’t alone and that he wasn’t Tupac, and told Taemin off for just standing there. How did Taemin ever fall for him?

“Don’t lie, you’re jealous of Minho hyung, you’ve always wanted his parts,” Taemin says. “Aigoo, someone’s greedy.”

“Should I not be?” Jonghyun’s just saying. But then he goes on, “Taemin-ah…” and Taemin’s heart sputters and dies and plummets, and maybe it’ll splat. “I don’t even know if you remember what you said, but I’ve been thinking a lot about it. That my album should sound like me. But I want everything to sound exactly how it does in my head, which means bringing other people in for the rest of it, too.”

Jonghyun can do so much with his voice as it is. With every song Taemin gives everything he has, but all he knows how to do is sing what they give him. Jonghyun always makes it his.

“Besides me and the other hyungs, you mean,” is what comes out of Taemin’s mouth. Why can’t he stop trying to turn this into a joke? “It’s okay, you can just say you’re too good for the rest of us~”

“It’s too late for you. I asked you before if you would duet with me and you told me no. That time.” A heart beat of silence, then another, another another another. _“Do_ you remember?”

Another.

“When you played me ‘Love Belt?’” Why is he asking? He knows. “What about it?”

“Nothing.”

Taemin could huff, roll over, lose the moment in the rustle of his covers, the stretch of his legs, yawn or sigh or change the subject, but here he goes, asking again. “What’s nothing?”

He _knows._

“Just…I can’t remember the start. I keep remembering moments like that.”

What’s the point when you know the end?

Taemin’s heart is pounding. His mouth has gone dry. His palms are sweating. He’s hot and cold all over.

“The company won’t say no, hyung,” he says. Makes himself. “They let me do ‘Pretty Boy’ with Jonginnie, and they’re used to setting up collaborations for the station.”

“If anyone turns me down, it won’t be their fault, it’ll be mine? You turned me down first, it has to go up from there.” Taemin has one moment to live with that, and then Jonghyun’s telling him in a rush, “I’m sorry, Taemin-ah. I didn’t realize how that would sound, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Taemin just wishes he knew some other way to take it.

“I didn’t know you sucked at phones, too.” He wishes he knew how to not make it worse. “I shouldn’t have called, I wasn’t thinking, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” Jonghyun says, so quickly, like he’s scared Taemin will hang up on him next. Like Taemin even could, like he would be smart enough to, when he was dumb enough to call. Like he can tell himself anything, when he has Jonghyun’s voice in his ear, telling him again, “I’m not, Taemin-ah. Don’t be.”

Taemin curls in on himself. If he opens his eyes he’ll see nothing. If he shuts them tighter, maybe he’ll see Jonghyun.

“It feels like forever since we talked.”

“So come talk to me. Let me see your face,” Jonghyun says, almost tripping over the words, putting every little piece of himself out there before anyone tries taking anything back. “Save me, Taemin-ah. Creative takes long lunches, I can’t do anything about it, and by noon they’re sick of me. And I’m sick of the cafeteria.”

Telling should be so much harder than asking, but then, Jonghyun’s never made Taemin ask for anything. “Buy me food.”

As soon as he gets it out, Jonghyun’s agreeing, “Whatever you want,” even though he should know better. Even though he probably does. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know, I have to think,” Taemin says, because he can’t right now. Because he does know, he knows exactly what he wants, and if Jonghyun doesn’t know it too he’s even stupider than Taemin. “I’ll see what I feel like tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. Taemin’s the one who said it and now he doesn’t know what to do with himself, how to get it out from under his skin, how to swallow it again, lock it up inside him until he can let it out, because it’s four in the morning and Jonghyun can hear everything, and so can his parents, and and and.

Taemin just has to survive until goodbye, but then Jonghyun says, “What do you feel like right now?”

What? Now?

He’s talking about food, right? They’re just talking about food.

“You didn’t eat dinner?”

Jonghyun half smiles in his ear. Half smirks. “I ate.”

“Good.”

Silence. If Taemin got him wrong, good. The right answer was probably, _I don’t want food, I just want you. Don’t even try to sleep, come pick me up. Don’t go to work tomorrow, don’t live your life, just be part of mine._ Silence.

_I said I love you, hyung. I’m stupid, but I know what that means._

_Sleep well. Show them ‘Deja-Boo.’ I won’t pick anything spicy or expensive, I’ll pick something you like, kind of at least, and then I’ll walk you back. It’s not okay to hold hands, it’ll be broad daylight and I’m not twelve, but maybe we can hug. And I won’t be able to stop myself from looking. And then…you’ll go back to work, and I’ll be stuck in place again._

Silence.

And finally, last thing Jonghyun wants to say, last thing Taemin wants to hear, last thing. “Good night, Taeminnie.”

“Good night.”

The end.

 

Morning comes, same as always. As soon as Taemin wakes up, he wonders how he ever slept. And when the clock ticks its way to eleven thirty and Taemin steps into his shoes, steps onto the sidewalk, it feels as though he still is. He doesn’t float to SM, though. He walks. One foot in front of the other, one breath at a time, same as every single day of the past week. Or not. When he gets there he thinks he might be having a heart attack.

If he is, he lives through it. And his body listens to him when he pushes through the doors, climbs the stairs, meeting room after meeting room after meeting room, empty, silent. Should he check the cafeteria? Jonghyun didn’t say what time or where to wait last night, because the things that don’t seem like they should matter are the ones that always do in the end. Because what if Taemin missed him? What if he has to go back without seeing Jonghyun, go back to not seeing him until the next time he breaks? So right now. His phone is so heavy in his pocket, solid under his fingertips.

“Taemin-ah.” Yongdeok hyung. Face like he’s seen a ghost, rising from the plastic chair next to the vending machine, the one Jinki almost kicked to death in their debut year, when he and Taemin survived off chips during break time and the other three survived off air. And beyond, closed door. Voices. _Finally._ “You’re not here to see me, are you.”

“You got assigned to hyung?”

The better question is, _Did you even get a weekend off?_

“Yeah.”

“Is he in there?”

This is the first time Taemin’s asked Yongdeok hyung anything since that day on the roof and that night at the river, and now his questions keep getting stupider. 

Yongdeok hyung doesn’t care, anyway. Just pretends to, huffing, “You don’t want to know how I’ve been?”

“It’s only been a week,” Taemin points out. Takes too long, maybe, because Yongdeok hyung shifts his weight, scratches his hair, rubs at his eyes, dark circles like thumbprints. “Did you get to sleep at all?”

“I do all day. He’s not like you, he never wants me around. He keeps saying he’ll drive himself,” Yongdeok hyung says.

“He comes in at weird hours, that’s why.” Already, though? It’s only preproduction. _Hyung…_ “He’ll get worse when he starts recording. If the studio’s locked he comes over here, he’s friends with all the janitors. Hyung works too hard, but it’s even harder, trying to take care of him. Good luck~”

“He always forgets to eat, too.”

“He won’t today,” shoots out of Taemin, all weird and rushed. Yongdeok hyung never asked how Taemin’s been, he never asked what Taemin’s doing here, and now Taemin doesn’t know what’ll come out of him next, explanations, excuses, things Yongdeok hyung of all people doesn’t need to hear. _It’s not a lunch date, it’s just lunch, just like before we kissed. I’m allowed to check on him. I’m allowed to see him. We’re not doing anything wrong._ “He said I could pick. What do you want?” It’s the most normal thing he could think to say, but still, everything goes a little more wrong, something in Yongdeok hyung’s face Taemin is too scared to read. “He doesn’t hate you, hyung, it’s okay if you eat with us.”

And then out of nowhere he says, “I’ll buy you something today, Taemin-ah, how about that? You have no clue what it’s like, letting a kid like you pay all the time,” which, what? Taemin didn’t even come here to eat and now his stomach is squeezing in on itself, so tight he’ll be lucky if he gets five bites down. Next thing Yongdeok hyung has his hand on Taemin’s shoulder, holding him back when Taemin hasn’t moved. When he can’t, even. “Taemin-ah. Don’t go in there.”

The door opens and, “Taemin-ah!” One of the staffers from Creative comes up to them while others filter past with a nod or a smile. “Are you here to see Jonghyun-ssi, too?”

“What?”

The staffer claps him on the back. “Do him a favor, try a different day.”

_What?_

Yongdeok hyung squeezes Taemin’s shoulder, turns him around. “Hyung will buy you something, come on.”

“Taeminnie?” Dahae says. “What are you doing here?”

Taemin freezes.

Yongdeok hyung, too, so it’s up to Taemin to get himself unstuck, make sure he still has legs. Turn around, and face her. Them. He doesn’t know how to arrange his face or where to put his eyes or what to do with his heart, because if he lets it break right here it’ll become his next excuse, coming back to find the pieces later.

Every bone in his body is screaming at him to lie, make something up, wait for someone else to say something first, but the truth shouldn’t cost him anything. “To see hyung.” He’s not doing anything wrong. This isn’t wrong. But then it is, because he lets himself look at Jonghyun, just for a second, just one second. The morning Jonghyun’s had stares back at him. Hair on end where he must have run his fingers through a million times, shoulders tight, nice everything, black everything, Jonghyun’s idea of business casual. And now this, on top of everything else, now _Taemin,_ exact wrong day, because there’ll never be a right one. Dark eyes. Darker voice.

“Taemin-ah,” Jonghyun begins.

And ends. “You said you’d buy him food, right?” Dahae says, mouth curving into a half-smile. When she turns it on Taemin it sticks in his chest. “This is so funny. Half the time I try to eat with him he says he’s eating with you.” She laughs, at the situation, at the look on Taemin’s face, at the look on Jonghyun’s, at nothing, because this is nothing. Taemin is nothing. She threads her arm through Jonghyun’s, bright red nails, small white hand. “It’s okay. I can share.”

“No, that’s okay,” Taemin says in a terrible rush. And because he’s going back to being alone, nothing to do for the rest of time but hate himself, “Thank you.”

Just those five words took every last thing Taemin has, but what is he supposed to do, when she just shakes her head, laughs again, insists, “I said I’ll buy you food. Jonghyunnie’s cheap, but I know some good places.”

“Thank you,” Taemin begins again.

“Thank you, _noona,”_ she corrects him.

Taemin would rather die. And maybe he will. More words. More of this feeling.

“It’s okay, I just. Yongdeok hyung. He was my manager before, I haven’t seen him in forever. He already said he would.”

“For me, too,” the staffer cuts in, throwing a grin at Jonghyun and pressing his hand between Taemin’s shoulder blades, like that’ll get him to move, after everything Taemin’s tried on himself, lifetimes in seconds. “Come on, Taeminnie. We’ll let you pick.”

Jonghyun said he would, too. _You said, hyung._ And now Taemin won’t ever say anything again, throat closing, head spinning, this day, this year, his whole life closing in on him again, no room to think or breathe or _be._

“What do you want, Taemin-ah?”

_Hyung._

Taemin looks again before he can stop himself, but that’s all he has to do, turn those two inches towards him, lift his head, and Jonghyun’s eyes find his. Hold them. And just like that, it’s like no time has passed at all. “I’ll buy,” Jonghyun goes on, half to Taemin, half to Dahae, half who cares, when every single word brings them closer to the part where they have to look away, “I can’t go far, I have to get back.” And then will come the part where Taemin walks behind them and tries not to look at them holding hands, or walks ahead, Jonghyun’s voice at his back, telling him to slow down, telling him he’ll get lost, he always does, and maybe Dahae will laugh. And it wouldn’t be okay for Taemin to tell Jonghyun to keep up, that his legs are too short and they always will be, because she’d probably laugh some more. But right now. Jonghyun takes a breath so deep Taemin can see, and smiles at him. Says in that stupid voice, “You said you’d think. You weren’t lying to me, were you~?”

Not to Jonghyun. And not to himself.

“Then…whatever you want.”

 

“Which kind should I get?” Dahae lays her chin on her hands, smiling across the table at Taemin, white teeth, dimples, so perfect it looks fake. She doesn’t take her eyes off Taemin when Jonghyun stirs beside her, opens his mouth to answer, just shuts him down before he starts. “You don’t know anything about food, I’m asking him.”

“Taeminnie only knows about eating,” Jonghyun tells her.

She doesn’t laugh at Taemin, and somehow that’s worse, somehow that has Taemin’s insides shriveling up, the five pounds he’s gained this past week feeling like five million all of the sudden. Good thing he didn’t get a haircut. Jonghyun shoots Taemin a smile too, _you always say that and you’re always cute,_ big and bright and stupid. Forces it. Taemin never asked him to.

“Can you handle spicy things?” Taemin says.

“I was raised on Korean food, Taemin-ah,” she says. “I don’t know what you’ve seen on TV, but don’t believe it. The only difference is I had a maid instead of a mother.”

“Then bibim naengmyun.”

She nods. Leans into Jonghyun’s side. Jonghyun stiffens, eyes flitting to Taemin, trapping him. All that means is Taemin has to watch him relax into her. “Do you want to share, baby?”

“Hyung likes mul naengmyun,” Taemin blurts out.

Too late, he freezes. Why is he telling her about her boyfriend? Why should he have to? Jonghyun’s mouth twists, something so close to a smile fighting its way onto his face, crazy, nervous. What for? This is his girlfriend. He put himself in Dahae’s hands, he gave her his heart and his body, his nights and his mornings, almost a year of his life. Taemin shouldn’t have to tell her anything.

She doesn’t want to hear it, anyway. “It’s not that he has a weak stomach? I know he can’t drink, that’s the first thing I learned. Our third date, I took him to a whisky bar and he fell asleep in the cab home.”

Taemin can see it. Maybe Jonghyun nodded off on her shoulder, maybe she let him lay his head in her lap. Maybe she dropped him off home, or maybe she took him back to her place, took care of his things, rolled him onto his side, spent the whole night staring into his face. Taemin always wasted it, rolling out of Jonghyun’s arms, twisting away to avoid his soju breath, screwing his eyes shut, hiding under his pillow and swearing into it. And the next morning he’d wake up to Jonghyun puking his guts out in their bathroom.

The ahjumma takes their order and leaves them water and banchan, so Taemin eats and drinks, lets them talk. Dahae does until their noodles come, and then some more. Her costar has bad breath, she’s already dreading kissing him. She got two hours of sleep last night. They made her go brown for her role, she looks better with black, right? So would Jonghyun. Maybe if she were thirteen she’d want to show him off, bleached hair and earrings, but she’s almost thirty, it’s embarrassing. And how is she supposed to eat all this?

“Did you walk, Taemin-ah?” Jonghyun says.

“Yeah,” Taemin tells his noodles.

“It’s still so hot.”

“For you. I’m fine.”

“Girls must hate you,” Dahae cuts in. “How are you so skinny?”

How is Taemin supposed to know? All the time he’s not dancing, his body does whatever it wants to. Like right now. When Jonghyun reaches across the table, telling him, “Slow down, you’ll get indigestion,” swiping his thumb over Taemin’s cheek, dragging it across his lips, Taemin doesn’t knock his hand away. Leans into his touch. Follows Jonghyun with his eyes when Jonghyun takes it away, licks himself clean, red sauce, pink tongue.

Jonghyun looks away first, turning back to Dahae. “How is it?”

She scrunches up her nose. Maybe that’s cute? “Maybe I should’ve gotten mul naengmyun, too.”

“Take mine,” Jonghyun offers. And at her look, “Let’s switch, I mean.”

He’ll sweat through lunch and spend the afternoon meeting trying not to run to the bathroom, he means. All for her.

“Still, it’s better than the places around set, right?” she goes on. When Jonghyun pushes his bowl towards her, she shakes her head, tells him, “You eat, baby. I’m on a diet, anyway.” She shoots Taemin another smile, sharper than before. Jonghyun’s looking again, too, eyes burning into his face. “The days they don’t do catering Jonghyunnie feeds me. Half the time we end up ordering things, or he’ll ask me what I want beforehand and bring it to me. Maybe this is bad to say, but I can handle this work as long as there’s someone there to handle me. Otherwise I start to hate my life and everyone in it.”

That sounds like a manager, not a boyfriend, but what does Taemin know? He’s never had one.

“I just need food and sleep and I’m fine.”

“Jonghyunnie says you’re too hard on yourself.” Jonghyun says a lot of things. Whatever he says to her about Taemin, Taemin doesn’t want to know. “We heard your song on the radio a couple times.”

Why does she keep talking to him? If he waits to swallow maybe Jonghyun will say something else, and she’ll tell him, _Let him answer for himself. You’re too easy on him._ So he doesn’t, just stores what he can in his cheeks and gets out, “‘Danger?’”

That does it. She goes back to her own noodles, flicking her hair over her shoulder, laying them over her spoon, as far from slurping as she can get. “Is that what it was called?” Then, to Jonghyun, “You kept telling me I’d remember it if I saw him dance to it, but music is for listening, right?” She wrinkles her nose. “Pop just isn’t my thing. Everything’s over before I can catch up, everyone’s already forgotten about it.”

_Hyung has my album. I gave it to him and he kissed me. Will you even remember to buy his? He said he thinks of me. Do you think of him ever?_

“People say the same thing about TV,” Jonghyun says quickly.

Too quickly. Her eyes flash and her mouth presses into a thin line, but somehow, “You’re right. I’m not a real actress until I make it in Chungmuro,” still finds its way out of her.

Like she pressed a button somewhere Taemin can’t see, Jonghyun’s back stiffens again and his shoulders tighten, hunch, like he’s fighting not to shift away from her, fighting to sit through it, fighting to keep what she’s doing to him off his face, like Taemin can’t see any of it.

“Not me, people. Music is just music, Dahae-yah. Art is just art. There’s no real or fake, there’s nothing special about it.”

“Every time we have this conversation he tries to turn it into an argument,” she says to Taemin. “All I meant was, you’re making money, right?”

Then all Taemin has to say is, “Mm.”

She laughs behind her hand, light, tinkling, like a fork in Taemin’s ear.

“Did you make enough to feed yourself? You should be better off than your hyungs now. Jonghyunnie at least.”

When Jonghyun’s eyes flit to Taemin’s face it’s all Taemin can do to hold them. It’s all he can do not to reach over and take Jonghyun’s hand where it’s clenched around his water glass. Not to get up and grab Jonghyun’s wrist and drag him out of here, take him away from her, back into Taemin’s life, his days and his nights, every meal of every day, every thought, every breath, every heartbeat. Inside Taemin.

“I said I’d buy you food,” he says through his noodles, chopsticks on automatic. “I can pay today.”

Right away Jonghyun says, “I’ve got it, Taeminnie.” He tries to smile, just for Taemin. How is Taemin supposed to tell him that he’s making it worse? How is he supposed to get this bite down? “You never let hyung do anything for you. Let me.”

How is he supposed to tell Jonghyun, _You do everything._

“Do you want to switch for a day, Taemin-ah? You can have my boyfriend, and I’ll take Jonghyun hyung.”

“I’ll pay.”

It’s out of his mouth before he can think twice, and then he doesn’t. Just fumbles for his wallet, blind, stupid, so stupid. Then something presses into his foot under the table, sure, solid. Jonghyun’s.

“Finish your noodles. You’re not hungry?” Dahae snorts, eyebrows climbing, but Jonghyun ignores her. “Usually you have room to finish mine, too.”

“You filled up on banchan, right? I used to do that whenever my mom put me on a diet, and then I got into acting and had to learn self-control.” Dahae’s eyes narrow, fixed on Taemin. He gives her as little of his face as he can, head down. “You don’t know how lucky you are that you haven’t yet.”

“Sorry, Taemin-ah. You said you wanted what I want, but I wanted whatever you did. Hyung got it wrong, huh,” Jonghyun says, as though it’s just the two of them. “It’s still summer for me. I’ll buy you jokbal next time.”

“Aigoo, how greasy. Did you pick something healthy for me, is that what this is?”

No, it’s not. Jonghyun and Taemin have been coming here to eat naengmyun every summer for the last nine years of their lives. When they were trainees, they would come here for lunch every day Taemin was on break, then weekends sometimes, until the leaves fell and Jonghyun grew tired of reminding him that naengmyun is supposed to be eaten in winter, who cares if it’s cold, and fed him stew instead. But it’s still summer, and not just for Jonghyun. It’s still today. The sun is bursting in through the window, beating down on Taemin’s shoulders, shining on Jonghyun.

And Dahae. “Even if you don’t gain weight, your skin must get it.”

“I’m the one who breaks out,” trips out of Jonghyun, faster than Taemin can think, foot pushing into his, “Taeminnie’s skin is perfect.”

What is Taemin supposed to do with him?

Maybe it took years of Kibum reminding him as soon as they got in the door every night and Jinki threatening to squeeze his pimples but, “I take care of it.”

“I’m starting to hate you myself.” Dahae slaps her chopsticks down onto the table, resting her cheek on her fist, shooting Jonghyun a sidelong glance. “Okay, so he’s perfect. What about you? You’re always buying him this crap, how are you not fat?” Taemin opens his mouth to say something, anything—“That’s right. You don’t eat.”

Next second Taemin’s on his feet.

“Where are you going? Taemin-ah? Taemin-ah.”

“Bathroom.”

Taemin's breath leaves him until he hits the sink, tap on full force, hot water, _shit._ And then it comes in gasps, and Taemin’s okay as long as it’s not sobs, because who knows what might come out of him next. He’s gone crazy. He has to go back out there. When Taemin tries again it’s like ice, shrinking his skin, freezing his face. No good. He has to get that expression off it.

He has to go back out there. He’s been in here long enough to pee and wash his hands, he has to go out there and pay and decide how to break his own heart, follow them back to SM, maybe hang around and wait for her to kiss Jonghyun goodbye, or say goodbye himself on the sidewalk, leave Jonghyun alone with her. He has to.

“I didn’t know she would stop by. She never does.”

Jonghyun.

Taemin goes in blind for the paper towels, a whole tree’s worth. “It’s always you, right?” jerks out of him.

“Taemin-ah,” Jonghyun says in a voice that stops his heart. He doesn’t need to see the face that goes with it.

“She’s your girlfriend.” Jonghyun reaches for him, taking him by the shoulders. Taemin’s too slow to escape and it would take more than he has to break Jonghyun’s hold, but he tries, turning away, twisting in Jonghyun’s grip. Taemin’s feet stutter across the floor when Jonghyun pulls him in, into his arms, so he gets his elbows between them instead, and somehow his hands are in fists, somehow he’s saying, “I told you,” and Taemin’s own words hit him harder than he can hit Jonghyun, voice breaking, everything breaking. “I told you.”

Jonghyun holds him.

“Tell me to break up with her.”

_“I told you.”_

“I can take anything else, but don’t run away from me again,” Jonghyun says into his hair, clutching Taemin closer, so warm and solid Taemin could die right here. “I won’t do anything, I’ll be good, so stop running.” He breathes deep, breathes Taemin in, ragged, shaky, right in Taemin’s ear. Taemin feels it with his whole body. “I need to see you, I can’t breathe without you. Please, just let me.”

They’re in the bathroom of the naengmyun shop a few blocks down from SM. They weren’t the only people here, anyone could walk in, anytime. And Dahae, Dahae-ssi, Dahae noona, _Jonghyun’s girlfriend,_ is right out there. Taemin doesn’t know how long he’s been already, he doesn’t know how long he’ll need just to let go. Time stopped working for him weeks ago.

Taemin holds on. Folding his arms around Jonghyun, squeezing him tight, spreading his fingers out to feel the warmth of his skin through his shirt, burying his face in his neck until his entire world smells and feels and looks like Jonghyun, he holds on.

_Jonghyunnie hyung._

 

The moment passes, then the day. Then the next, and the next, until Taemin wakes up to another text from Jongin. This one says, _billiards?_

Taemin says what time.

And now Jongin is telling him, “Don’t be mad you lost.”

He throws his arm over Taemin’s shoulder on their way into the light. The sun is blinding.

“Let me win next time, then,” Taemin huffs, instead of telling Jongin it’s not that. Instead of telling him he’s just in a shitty mood, and smiling hurts a lot more than his face, and somehow he’s in the middle of the love triangle. Jonghyun is. Taemin’s off to one side. And if he’s not Jonghyun’s dirty little secret, the other woman, man, whatever, that’s only because Jonghyun is Jonghyun. “Are you hungry? I’ll buy.”

“Can’t. Diet. Skipping lunch is the easiest way to keep it down,” Jongin says. Whatever. Taemin will just drive him home then. “Are you mad at me?”

“I’m thinking about what I’m gonna have when I get rid of you~. Chicken? Hanwoo? Jokbal. Jokbal, jokbal.”

_Sorry, Taemin-ah. It's still summer for me._

“No, I mean.” Whatever it is, Jongin has no idea how to say it, that’s for sure. Taemin will give him a few seconds to figure it out, then try smiling again. And in the meantime…where did he park again? When he goes for the crosswalk at the corner Jongin drags him around it instead. Oh. Right. Taemin has seen this before. “Soojungie texts me more than you, that’s why. She always gets there first.”

Oh.

“Don’t worry, I get it,” Taemin says. “Soojungie’s a girl and I’m not.”

“Taemin-ah~”

This is the part where Taemin should laugh, double down, but instead he’s saying, “Sorry. It’s just something Jinri said.”

“She’s having a tough time lately. Honestly, it’s worse for her than Jinri,” Jongin says. “Soojungie and the others want to work and now they can’t, and it’s nothing they did. It’s unfair.”

Jongin’s right, but Taemin can’t stop himself from saying, “It’s nothing Jinri did, either. All she did was like someone.”

“I’m not blaming her,” Jongin shouldn’t have to say, “I’m just saying.”

“I know. I am too.” _I like Jonghyunnie hyung. I know I can’t have him, I know what that would do to us, to the others, but I want him like crazy. It’s really bad, Jongin-ah. It hurts so bad._ “When you finally get a girlfriend, be careful.”

“Look who’s talking~.” When Jongin pokes his finger into Taemin’s cheek Taemin wriggles away instead of planting an elbow in his side and retorting, _I changed my mind, you can start calling me hyung._ Jongin doesn’t laugh at him, just lets him go, stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Baekhyun hyung and Taeyeon noona are still off, by the way,” he goes on. They have been since SM Town, Taemin’s the one who told Jongin they were. He’s pretty sure he saw them break up for the last time. “And Soojungie’s a girl who’s a friend, Taemin-ah, don’t say weird stuff. And she says her sister’s thinking of getting married.”

It was Jinri, not Taemin. And she didn’t say anything about Jongin, she just said Soojung liked him. Maybe Taemin should tell him that. Maybe not? Soojung didn’t say anything.

Too bad Jongin is so much fun to push. “She told me that months ago. Like, months and months. I guess she’s closer to me after all~” Or not. Jongin just shrugs. Stops short, because that’s the car. Duh. As he cuts around to the driver’s side, Taemin says, “Would SM let her?”

Where did he put his keys again?

“She’d have to quit. If her business takes off she might have to anyway.”

“Lots of idols have stuff on the side, though? Like Junsu hyung, with his resort.”

Digging in his pockets turns up nothing, so Taemin tries the door. Unlocked. Jongin gives him a look over the car, but he climbs into his seat all the same, then says, “That’s just what Soojungie said,” instead of making fun of him. “The other noonas don’t like it. They say it’s fine, but then they act like it’s not? Something like that? Don’t ask me what that means. Girls are too hard for me.”

“People are, for me.”

“Everything is. Try your back pockets.” Jongin gets comfortable, stretching his legs, bracing one foot on the dash. “What about guys?”

Taemin shifts his weight, reaching back. “Harder.”

He should’ve worn track pants. His jeans are way too tight right now, just forcing his way inside his pocket is a workout.

“You are one, though? What about me, then?”

“Easy.”

“I’m not a man?”

“Not to me~”

Maybe the other side. Wouldn’t he feel it if he were sitting on it, though? Maybe he should go back, maybe he left his keys inside somewhere.

Jongin hits his arm, then again until Taemin meets his eyes, proves he’s listening. “If you had to pick, if we were the last men on earth….me or Joonmyun hyung?”

“Neither,” Taemin replies immediately. “What? If it’s just the three of us, the human race is over. We couldn’t have babies.”

Jongin makes a face. “I would pick you.”

“I don’t know, now that I think about it, Joonmyun hyung would take care of me.”

“Me or Sehunnie, then.”

“Sehunnie. He’s cuter, he listens to me.”

“You don’t live with them, you have no idea what you’re signing up for,” Jongin says, shaking his head, totally not smiling, but then his own words catch up to him. Taemin’s already there. He has to head him off, change the subject, tell him he’s done playing, it just stopped being funny—“Jinki hyung. Minho hyung.”

“Jonghyunnie hyung,” Taemin says. It just comes out, and then there’s no way to force it back in, nothing to do but sit there and live with it. “It’s Jonghyunnie hyung, for me. We kissed.”

Jongin flounders, dumbfounded. Taemin can’t look anymore. He can’t look. He can’t he can’t he can’t. “You and Jonghyunnie hyung?”

“Mm.”

“When?” Jongin demands.

“August,” Taemin gets out, mouth dry as dust. He sits back, putting everything he has into keeping his hands in his lap, away from the door handle. “Before promotions.”

“I didn’t know he—” _likes men._

“I didn’t, either, I don’t know if it’s that,” comes rushing out of Taemin. “He says he likes me, though. He said it and then he kissed me.” Taemin’s stomach swoops, halfway between flying and falling, because he’s never said this out loud, just to Jonghyun, just that one single night. “I love him. I’m in love with him.”

Silence.

Then, “August.”

Jongin’s fingers graze Taemin’s wrist, and before Taemin can stop himself his eyes snap to Jongin’s face. He looks the same as he did a minute ago, like he’s still trying to figure himself out. Waiting for Taemin to give him a push, maybe, shake him to see if words come out.

“What?” Taemin nudges him, heart pounding out of his chest. “My taste sucks?”

“Either this is a joke or it’s not, Taemin-ah. It’s not, right?” Jongin says. “Then don’t turn it into one.”

“Are you mad?” Taemin swallows back a thousand things, pleas, excuses, he doesn’t even know what. “You’re the first person I’ve told. I wasn’t going to tell anyone, but it’s not going away.” Taemin takes a breath, then another, until he can admit, “It won’t.”

Jongin nods. Frowns. Somehow accepts this new world where Taemin wants to fuck Jonghyunnie hyung, the way he accepts everything else he doesn’t understand, and moves on to the next thing. “What about his girlfriend, did he break up with her?”

“I turned him down.”

“Taeminnie.”

Taemin’s not going to make excuses, he doesn’t even need to, when, “They were on a break when it happened.” Does he? “We didn’t do anything wrong, we haven’t done anything.”

“But he went back to her.”

Taemin can’t lie to Jongin, he never could, so he lets himself hide instead, just this one time, lets himself look as stupid as he feels, putting his head down on the steering wheel.

“You saw what happened with Jinri, what that did to Soojungie and the others,” Taemin gets out. “How could I do that to Shinee?”

Jongin’s hand falls on Taemin’s shoulder, awkward, gentle. Makes it worse. “What about hyung? He’s the one who’s still with someone else. So you turned him down. He should’ve dumped her and waited for you, if he loves you so much.”

So much worse.

“He said he would. I told him not to.”

Jongin slides his hand down Taemin’s back, two second warning before he pokes Taemin in the side, then again. Again, twisting it between Taemin’s ribs, until Taemin cringes away, fights him off, forgets himself and looks again.

Jongin’s waiting with a smile. “He knows you, he should know better than to do what you say.”

“Right?” All Taemin has to do is smile back. If it hurts he can’t feel it, not with this thing that’s clawed up his insides and taken over his body. “Too bad it’s not that simple.”

“Yeah.”

“And now it’s too late.”

Jongin shakes his head at Taemin. “You don’t know that.”

“I fucked up,” Taemin tells him. Tells himself, because the last thing he deserves, the last thing he needs, is hope. “I love him, Jongin-ah. Really. I know I can’t have him, I know how bad it would get if we dated, but I can’t just stop.”

“You don’t know, Taemin-ah,” Jongin says again. No one else could ever get him to talk, but he never knows when to shut up when it’s just the two of them. “What do you know about dating? You had one girlfriend when you were like twelve.”

Seventeen, and she dumped Taemin because he failed at every boyfriend thing besides paying for stuff, but whatever. Enough about him. Enough with putting his problems on Jongin. Taemin can feel his smile coming back, fighting its way onto his face. Once it does maybe he’ll see if Jongin likes his diet or hanwoo better, but for now…. “You and Soojungie really aren’t a thing?”

If Jongin is tired of sitting in this stuffy car, it doesn’t show on his face. All of the sudden nothing does. “Nope.”

Too bad that’s his biggest tell. “You’ve never thought about her?”

All Taemin has to do is push his shoulder and Jongin breaks into the stupidest smile. “I have.” As soon as it’s out there he turns on Taemin. “What? You don’t know how pretty she is.”

“I have eyes.” Jongin just laughs. “What?”

“Do you?” Jongin says. “What is it about hyung?”

That’s all it takes, one single question that isn’t what is wrong with you or are there no single guys, and there are a thousand things Taemin wants to say. A thousand different things that could be the right answer. A million. And now his ears are going hot and he can’t find words and it’s only Jonghyunnie hyung and and and.

“I don’t know,” Taemin says, so shy all of the sudden. “He’s him.”

“Who’s better looking, me or him?”

“Jonghyunnie hyung.” Shit, so embarrassing. Taemin has to turn this around so he can die in peace. “Go ask someone, anyone besides me. Ask Soojungie~”

Jongin doesn’t laugh this time, just gives Taemin this look, the one that says he doesn’t know how to say this. “Taemin-ah.” Jongin always does this to him. But then all he has for Taemin is, “It’s okay if you like him.”

It still knocks Taemin breathless. “Aigoo, I didn’t know I needed your permission.”

“It’s okay if he likes you, too. If you can’t help it he can’t either. But, Taemin-ah. Don’t do anything.” Did he miss the part where Taemin said he’s not. Did he miss the part where Taemin’s fingers are going to fall off from clenching them so tight that day, when his hand brushed Jonghyun’s, or his eyes are going to fall out from staring at his phone all night and not texting or calling or anything, not again, just staring at his phone. “As long as he’s with her, hold it in.”

 _Taemin is._ And yet what comes out of him is, “I don’t know if I can, I don’t know _how.”_

“I’m on your side no matter what you do,” Jongin tells him. “But I also know you. You’d hate yourself. You couldn’t live like that.”

“You think hyung could?” Taemin snaps. But that’s not fair. He’s being so crazy, happy then sad then angry, always one word from laughing or crying or yelling, around and around. “What if I can’t live without him? I can’t avoid hyung forever, but when I saw him, it all came back. And when I stay away it’s just there. I can’t _stop.”_

“You can,” Jongin says, no mercy. “It’s been what, a month?”

“Two or three. Maybe more. It took a while to figure it out, is all.”

It feels like forever.

“He’s not the only guy in the universe, Taeminnie. You’ve liked other guys before, it doesn’t have to be him.” Jongin’s been totally okay making eye contact this whole conversation, but now he squints out the window, fiddles with his door handle. Says it, gets the obvious out of the way. “And until you find someone else, you’ve got me.” He shoots Taemin another smile. “And who knows. Maybe they’ll break up.”

That wouldn’t change anything. Jonghyun’s liked other people before, too. He’s been in love so many times. He loved Dahae. And maybe it’s not Taemin’s fault they’re back together, maybe he can’t stop her from treating Jonghyun like shit, from using him and twisting his words and putting him down and turning his life’s work into a joke…but he can’t make Jonghyun love himself. And if Taemin held Jonghyun’s hand, the whole world might hate them both.

Except Jongin, so far. Smiling back makes Taemin feel a hundred years older. “Maybe~”

Where are his keys?

 

Taemin ends up in the same place.

Bed. His room, not theirs. Silence. His ceiling, once his eyes adjust. And then just his phone, because waking it up blinds him to everything else. And when his vision clears, Jonghyun’s name.

Jonghyun.

_i miss you_

Backspace.

_u looked skinny. eat more._

Backspace.

_u looked good. u always do_

Backspace.

_hyung_

Backspace.

_jonghyunnie hyung_

Backspace.

_i cant breathe either. i cant do this. i was wrong. i was being stupid._

Backspace.

_break up with her_

Backspace.

_jokbal_

Send.


	9. Chapter 9

“Can you stay till lunch, baby?”

“I have a meeting at nine.”

Jonghyun does, he’s not lying, but Dahae gives him a look. “You could just say no.”

Could he?

Jonghyun’s ass hurts from sitting in this folding chair for the last hour of his life, watching the sun creep into the sky, watching people come and go, waiting for Dahae’s life to hit play again. His back hurts too, his head hurts, everything hurts. His eyes feel like they’re burning out of his head and he’s not sure if he needs sleep, wants coffee, or needs coffee, wants sleep.

_I can’t stay. I can’t help you live your life, not if I have to live mine, too. I can’t do this anymore._

“Tell me what you want, and I can get it and leave it for you,” Jonghyun says.

“No, it’s okay.” Then why does her face look like that? “Everything I can think of would get ruined in the microwave. Ugh, I just want real food.”

“What about your manager, where is he?”

“I’m tiring you out,” Dahae says, this close to a question. But then she skips the part where Jonghyun struggles with the truth, whether he should tell it to her, _Yes, I’m tired, I’m so fucking tired,_ because the next thing is, “Try thinking of how tired I am. You never sleep, you’re used to it. We’re a month in and I’m already down to four hours. Why did I ever take this job? We’re shooting outdoors all day, too.” She leans into his side, lays her head on his shoulder. It would be so easy to get up, stretch his legs, tell her he has to pee. It’s so much harder than it should be to sit here. “Make a lot of money with your album, so I can quit.”

That’s not funny. Neither is Jonghyun’s heart, like a trip hammer in his chest when he goes for his phone.

“Who do you keep texting?”

No one. And no one’s texted Jonghyun, not since Minho thirty minutes ago.

_taeminnie and jinki hyung stopped by. come hang out^^_

_if u do we can talk about kibummie. if u dont well talk about u kekeke_

Every time Jonghyun checks it’s still there. Who knows if Taemin still is.

“Sorry I’m so boring,” Dahae says.

Jonghyun has to force himself to put it away, look up, smile. “How’s the script? Minho says it’s good.”

She relaxes into him again. “For what it is, I guess. It’s the same girl I’ve played thirty times. Guys always get the interesting roles.”

“With this writer, too?”

The whole week before filming started, every time Jonghyun came home from work Minho would grab him and force him into playing every character besides his, if Jonghyun didn’t find him about to fall into the television, watching Lee Kyunghee dramas. It was always easier to sink down next to him than face being alone in their room again. Easier to put on stupid voices and try to fuck Minho up than try to sleep in his bed when Taemin’s was right there and Taemin wasn’t, to leave Taemin’s clothes in his closet instead of burying his face in them, or tell himself all the reasons why it would make him a terrible person to just look at Taemin’s underwear, not touch it or sniff it or jerk off into it, not even think about it, just look. But maybe he should tell himself again, because there’s one reason right here, staring him right in the face. Waiting for him to go on.

“What about that one with the single mom and the doctor. _Thank You._ Gong Hyojin and…”

“Jang Hyuk.”

Oh. Yeah. Him. When he was in _Chuno,_ Minho watched for the fight scenes and Taemin watched for the abs, and Jonghyun watched just to watch him deny it. Taemin, Taemin, Taemin. _Dahae._

“I only remember Gong Hyojin-ssi.”

“First Son Yejin and Shin Sekyung, and now her? I’d say you have a type, but we don’t look anything alike.” Dahae’s voice says it’s a joke. Everything else about her tells Jonghyun it’s not. “It’s so weird. Apparently she has more female fans than male, but she’s not my style. If she looks that skinny on TV she must look like a stick insect in person. This industry is crazy, can you imagine how hard I’d have to work just to have a body like _that?”_

_How are you so skinny? Girls must hate you. I’m starting to hate you myself._

Jonghyun needs a minute to swallow that. He should probably take it instead of spitting it back out at her. “Some people would have to work harder to get a body like yours, Dahae-yah.” And who knows how hard Gong Hyojin had to work to get the role Dahae wanted, but how could Jonghyun tell her that? Everyone else probably has—her manager, her agency, all the people she told she wanted the role, all the people those people told. He should have told her how sexy she is, he’s supposed to be her boyfriend. “Is she still getting scripts in on time? Writer-nim?”

Dahae makes a face. “Lee Kyunghee-ssi, Jonghyunnie. And we’re only a month in, of course she is, anyone would be. Why?”

Jonghyun didn’t think before he opened his mouth, but now that it’s too late to start. “It’s just something Taeminnie said. That her dramas always go crazy in the end.”

Dahae’s mouth thins and her shoulders tighten up again, all because Jonghyun was too stupid to keep Taemin to himself. She never starts it, not after that night, _he’s all you ever fucking talk about,_ but whenever Jonghyun forgets, says Taemin’s name, they both want the last word too badly.

Dahae forces a smile, white teeth, pink lipstick bright enough for the cameras. “Now that I think about it, you’re right. What you said earlier. How hard do you think he would have to work to fill out, when he eats that much already?”

As much as he loves food Taemin hates working out, but who cares, when he has nothing to work on, anyway. He’s perfect just how he is.

“He’s just built like that, Dahae-yah.”

Her mouth twists. “You mean like a girl.”

Like himself, Jonghyun means. And so what if Taemin isn’t Dahae’s idea of a man, so what if he’s prettier than most women, most people, _anyone_ Jonghyun’s seen. And so what if his hands are so small and cute, so what if his stomach is soft and his legs aren’t fair and his thighs really, really aren’t. So what if he looks good in girls’ clothes. So what if he makes Jonghyun feel like a man. So what if he’s more of one than Jonghyun will ever be.

So what if Jonghyun says any of this out loud.

“Dahae-ssi, five minutes.”

Too late. He should’ve said it a month ago. Not now, when it wouldn’t do anyone any good. Not Dahae, not Jonghyun, not Taemin. His heart still pounds all the way through Dahae sighing, climbing to her feet, and by the time she turns to him again, his hand has found his phone again.

“Wait for me?” Something in his face makes hers darken. “It’s only seven thirty.”

SM is maybe half an hour away right now, if he speeds. By the time her scene ends, if he’s lucky, maybe it’d be an hour? And by the time she lets him go…

“Dahae-ssi,” the staffer says again.

“When they say minutes they mean seconds. I’m going crazy. Tell me I can do this.”

She doesn’t need him to. She shouldn’t. “You know you can.”

Every time he says what she wants, she doesn’t want to hear it. When he turns to go, though, she grabs his wrist, narrowing her eyes at him. “No kiss?”

Somehow, “I’ll be here, I’m not going anywhere,” comes out of his mouth.

“I won’t, either,” she says, pouting, voice this close to aegyo. Ten months ago that would’ve sent Jonghyun into orbit, but now…“Kiss.”

He feels nothing.

It takes Jonghyun five minutes just to find Minho alone, hunkered down next to the river, staring into it, talking to himself. Going over his lines, probably. When Jonghyun pushes his foot into his back he starts, but he doesn’t come close to falling in, and it’d be too mean to push him.

And all he says is, “Are you leaving, too?”

“They left already?”

Jonghyun didn’t need to ask. He doesn’t need to know, either. Still, Minho tells him, “Jinki hyung had work.”

Jonghyun lowers himself next to Minho before Minho can get up, every bone in his body two seconds from snapping all of the sudden, probably because his heart weighs two million pounds.

“And Taeminnie?”

Minho shrugs. “Jinki hyung said he had to drag him here. Even if no one’s pointing them at him, I guess he still hates cameras?”

“Maybe he just hates you.”

“Are you sure it’s me~?” Minho grins, big and shit-eating. “I told him to stick around and ask you for a ride back, and then he went with Jinki hyung.”

“What did he say?” Jonghyun says sharply.

“Jonghyunnie hyung’s car smells weird,” Minho replies promptly. Jonghyun asked for it. He asked for it and if he lets anything inside him out he might explode, and then he’ll be the joke. He bites his tongue until Minho stops looking for a reaction. “Jonghyunnie hyung has to go to work.”

“So did Jinki hyung.”

“Practice. It’s not as bad if you’re late to that.”

That’s as close to the truth as Minho can get, which is good, because it’s as close to it as Jonghyun could stand to hear from someone else. If Jonghyun had asked instead of Minho, Taemin wouldn’t have said no. He would’ve just leaned against his door when Jonghyun reached for the gear shift, stared out the window and pretended Jonghyun wasn’t staring at him, told Jonghyun not to go all the way to his parents’ building, he’d walk from SM, the way he told Jonghyun outside the naengmyun shop, _See you, hyung. This place is closer to home than work._

If Jonghyun’s legs were longer, he could put his foot through his reflection.

“What about you?” Jonghyun nudges Minho. “Don’t you have work?”

“Just two scenes left today. I should be up soon, once Team B wraps up with Hong Dahae-ssi.” Minho stumbles over her name as if Jonghyun would rap his knuckles on his forehead, tell him to call her noona. If Jonghyun tried Dahae would hate it, just as much as he hated it whenever she used to tell him they should try being just friends. “What about you?”

“I don’t know how to tell her I have to go,” Jonghyun says.

“Just tell her.” Like it’s that simple. “You don’t think she’d understand?” Jonghyun never did, whenever she told him she was busy or she had other plans or that she had a life outside of him. He tried, and all trying did was hurt. Minho catches the look on his face and frowns at him. “Whenever I meet a girl outside work, they dump me because I don’t have enough time for them. And then I always think, okay, let’s stick to idols or actresses or whatever.”

“But then you’re scared you’d take too much of their time, right?” Jonghyun sighs. It does no good. Two seconds later he’s breathing in the same air and everything inside him feels just as shitty. “This is the first time we’ve both been busy. She never wanted to see me this summer, and now…”

“You have to learn to draw lines, hyung.”

“I’m all she has.”

“You sure about that?” Minho struggles with himself for a moment. Whatever comes out of his mouth is going to be either mean or cheesy, but Jonghyun waits him out all the same. And then finally Minho comes out with it. “Even if you are, you have your own life. You have stuff you have to do.” He pauses. “And she’s not all you have.”

“I don’t want to hear that from you, you just said Taeminnie hates me.” That was supposed to be funny, but Jonghyun’s never felt less like laughing. Minho, either. Whatever. “I know, Minho-yah.”

“She should, too,” Minho plows on, like he was just waiting for Jonghyun to guess the right answer. “And I wasn’t asking about her earlier, I was asking about you.”

Oh. That’s easy. Easier, at least.

“I don’t know. I’m not getting anywhere, every meeting we go in circles. I keep bringing the same things to the table and they keep showing up with ten new demos every time.”

Minho frowns. “I thought they said they were going to do things your way.”

They’re giving him a chance, that’s all. And they’ve left it to him to fuck it up, the way he fucks everything up. He’s the one who dropped out of school and bet his life on debuting, and now he’s the one who doesn’t want to pay up. He’s the one who followed Dahae off the commercial’s set the day they met, he’s the one who couldn’t even wait a day to call the number she gave him, and now he’s the one who thinks shitty thoughts whenever she touches him, then lies awake at night crying over someone else, and thinks of them when he touches himself.

Taemin’s not someone else, though. Dahae is. Which means Jonghyun is trash. So why is he sitting here wishing he were sitting in the car instead, trying to catch Taemin’s eye, breathing his air, hanging on for just one touch, one look, one word to make everything okay? It shouldn’t be okay. Jonghyun shouldn’t be.

But anyway. Minho. Album.

“What if their demos are better than mine, should I still draw a line? I don’t like my songs because they’re good, I like them because they’re my songs.”

Minho just frowns at him some more.

“They are good.”

 

Are they?

“I’ve heard this one before.”

The director of Creative nods at Jonghyun. “You didn’t turn it down last time.”

His voice says this should all be obvious. Should it be? Jonghyun had to speed to get here and he was still a minute late. Director-nim said it was fine, said he should oversleep now to make up for promotions later, and Jonghyun remembered to laugh. And then Director-nim said a lot of other things. All Jonghyun heard was no. And now out of nowhere they’ve gone back to this track. It means something to them, which means it’s going on his album, one way or the other.

It means nothing to Jonghyun.

“No, it’s just, this is the first time a demo’s come up twice,” Jonghyun struggles to say. “I have this one in my phone, it’s good.”

“So you’ve been listening to it?” a staffer says.

Sure. On the drive to set this morning, over to MBC last night, in bed when he couldn’t sleep and the clock told him he can’t get up yet and Taemin’s empty bed told him he might not be able to, even. “I listen to everything you give me.”

“Why do I feel like your words have thorns?” Director-nim laughs. “‘Beautiful Night’ is a good song, too, Jonghyun-ssi.”

“’Beautiful Tonight,’” Jonghyun corrects him, unable to stop himself.

Director-nim’s face doesn’t change. “It’s just…it’s sloppy,” he says, then, apologetically almost, like he needs to dress it up, “Improvisational. ‘Fortune Cookie,’ even more so. This is the kind of thing that would suit a live recording, it’s not the company’s style, or yours.” And again, he tries to fix it. “Well. Shinee’s.”

It does suit Jonghyun. He wrote ‘Beautiful Tonight’ two years ago, on the ride home from schedules, staring at the moon out the window with Taemin snoring in his ear, walking his then-girlfriend back to her place and waiting to see if she’d ask him up, then going home to Taemin, watching him sleep on the nights he didn’t wake him up. And it’s stayed with him. Taemin has.

But anyway. Jonghyun needs to focus. “I know we can’t go too far, I know we have to meet the fans halfway. Still, I’ve been thinking, if we could use live instruments—”

“It would be great, right?” another staffer interjects. Jonghyun might as well take a breath, figure out how to again, because right away she goes on, “I know it seems like we say no to everything, but we don’t decide the budget, Jonghyun-ssi. We just have to work within it.”

“Is it really that expensive?”

“You need people to play them. And then the takes add up,” Director-nim tells him patiently. “Going back to the track we showed you…”

“It would be great in concert, though,” Jonghyun interrupts him, like the complete fucking idiot he is. One of the staffers starts to speak, but Director-nim cuts them off with a wave of his hand, eyes on Jonghyun. Okay. He has to say something. Anything. Okay. “The studio version is one thing, I’m fine with it, I’ll be there to help them mix it. But if I ever had the chance to perform it, I think the fans would really connect with it.“

“Aigoo, you haven’t even debuted yet and you already want a concert, too?” another staffer says. He laughs, shaking his head. “Make some money first, Jonghyun-ah. About the track we showed you—it’s from Dsign Music.”

They’re done talking, in other words. Jonghyun doesn’t even know if he fucked up or if they would’ve said this no matter what, just that he needs to swallow back this bitter taste in his mouth. “Yeah, you told me last time. They worked with us before, last fall. ‘Destination.’”

“Ah, that’s right. Then you know they’re hit makers.”

_This is your title track, Jonghyun-ah. You know that, right?_

Jonghyun needs more time. He fucked up today. He should have slept instead of going to see Dahae, he should’ve slept the night before instead of crying over Taemin, he should’ve spent the last six years of his life just preparing for this meeting. He has less than a day to prepare for tomorrow’s.

“Should we go through the rest of these?” he says.

Director-nim lets it slide.

“We’ve actually got another one from them.” He doesn’t bother with the headphones, just hits play, and piano tinkles to life. “More of a ballad.”

Jonghyun closes his eyes and opens his ears. Opening his heart is harder. He wants to hate it, he just needs an excuse, too high, not his style, shitty arrangement, just something shitty as this feeling. But the beat hits his bones and then fades into his skin, and when the piano cascades into the chorus it takes him out of his body, and he’s the closest to crying he’s been all day.

“It feels holy,” he admits.

“Remember, lyrics are up to you,” one staffer says. “The guide is just there to give you a feel for the melody.”

“You don’t like it?” another staffer reminds him.

“I do.” It’s the truth, but it tastes so bad. “Maybe I’m just not in the right mood.”

“Or maybe this isn’t the right place?” Director-nim hits pause, and just like that, everything snaps back, sterile white walls, fake fluorescent lights, everyone’s eyes on him. “Download it and let’s move on. We’ll come back to it next time.”

Maybe Jonghyun should tell them to go listen to ‘Beautiful Tonight’ away from this fucking room, too.

“We also have submissions by Kenzie-ssi and LDN Noise, but they had Shinee’s next comeback in mind more than Jonghyun. Here’s something by The Underdogs…”

 

Blah blah blah blah blah.

“Don’t get mad at me, I just asked you how your day was,” Heeyeon says patiently.

She should’ve tried him an hour ago. The soju got to him first. One whole bottle. Two? Whatever. He should open his eyes and shut his mouth, probably, because he doesn’t know what’ll come up next, and Heeyeon will remember it. She hasn’t touched her glass.

“What is it this time? Hong Dahae-ssi or SM?”

Him.

“Aigoo,” she huffs, scrubbing her hand through his hair. “You were so worried about Taemin-ssi for months, now I can’t even ask about you?”

“Taeminnie’s different, Taeminnie’s mine.” Except he’s not, not at all. Dahae never was either. And SM owns Jonghyun. “I don’t know what I’m going to do if they make me make the same album as him. SM said we’d do things differently but it’s all the same, all they do is say no. And I just sit there. Everything I touch turns to shit.”

When Jonghyun reaches for the bottle Heeyeon tuts, slaps his hand away, then fills his glass herself. Jonghyun should take it with two hands, but he can only find one.

“What’s so wrong with making something like _Ace,_ what’s so shitty about that?” She’s frowning at him. “How many times have we played ‘Danger’ on Blue Night now?”

Every night this past week. It’s the only way Jonghyun can hear Taemin’s voice. Can’t call. If Taemin picked up it’d be bad and if he didn’t it would be worse. And anyway, “It’s good because it’s Taeminnie. And Shinee is good because it’s Shinee.” Why is this so hard for him to explain? What is so hard for her to get? “It wouldn’t be any good if it were me. It wouldn’t mean anything.”

Heeyeon just sighs, head in her hand. “Do you like _Ace_ or do you like him?”

Somehow Jonghyun can’t swallow, “Him,” with the soju, but then the burn shuts him up. And this is Heeyeon. For some reason it’s not okay for her to know. For anyone. “Both. That’s how it’s supposed to be with idols. He’s always been how he’s supposed to be, he’s the same on the outside as he is inside.”

“I don’t write any of Dear Cloud’s songs, you know, I just sing them. I guess you think Dear Cloud would sound the same if I took a break.”

“You’re you, you’re not me, either. I was talking about me. I’m not how I look. I’m not who the fans think I am. Jonghyun oppa.”

Does he sound stupid? She looks like she wants to laugh.

“What about the Jonghyunnie I’m talking to? Or Jonghyun hyung?” she prods him. “What about me, do you think you know everything about me?”

What is she asking, what is there to even ask? When they got here she asked for soondae and when he opened the first bottle she sighed and shook her head, so she’s not allowed to make no sense now.

“You don’t have to pretend, you get to be yourself. I have to pretend with everyone.”

“What, I’m not famous enough to understand? Jonghyun-ah…you’re acting like all your problems are from being an idol, but a lot of it’s just life,” Heeyeon tells him. “I pretend every day. I can do this. I can get out of bed. That creep on the subway’s not looking at me. He’s not the first man to look at me in like three months. Today will be different, today means something, my work means something. I don’t hate Jonghyun-ssi or Blue Night or the fact that it’s four in the morning and that soju is looking better and better, and I have to get up and do all this shit again tomorrow.”

Jonghyun pushes the bottle towards her. It looks like it’ll fall, but then it doesn’t, probably because she yanks it out of his reach. “Drink. You won’t have to pretend you’re drunk. I’m paying.”

“Nah, I’d have to pretend I’m okay with a dongsaeng buying me drinks. And you’re gonna hate yourself tomorrow.”

Jonghyun would have anyway.

“Thank you, noona.”

“For driving you home?”

Wait, what?

“Let me finish the bottle.” He makes a grab for it and his own arm comes out of nowhere. “Noooona~”

She gives in with the warning, “If you pass out I’m leaving you to Ahjumma.”

That’s no good. “She hates me. She thinks we’re together. You and me.”

“Aigoo. What about Taeminnie?”

“He rejected me.”

It comes out in an awful rush. His next breath is like stepping out into nothing, every cell in his body is in free fall, and he thinks he might throw up, watching Heeyeon’s face fall open, then smooth over. He’s not crying, right? And he didn’t say anything weird. The way Taemin makes him feel is the most normal thing about him.

“No, I just meant, he’d take care of you,” Heeyeon says slowly, like she wants to make sure it goes in somewhere. “Jonghyunnie?” What? “Are you okay? What am I asking. You’re not, right?” Right. “You can talk to me, you know.”

Just nodding turns Jonghyun’s world upside down. What would talking do?

“I’m only me when I’m alone. With Taeminnie…I try with him, I try to hide it, but he already knows everything. I don’t know why he loves me.”

“Jonghyun-ah…”

And there’s that face again. She can’t hate him. She has to get him home, because, “He can’t see me like this, I can’t keep doing this to him. I’m already too much.”

For an eternity Heeyeon just stares down at him, nailing him to his chair, holding his heart in her hand. But instead of squeezing, squishing it, blood running down her hand, she says like a normal person, “You have to pretend with him, too?” She tries smiling next, nudging him. “You two are so close, though. When he came around Blue Night I felt pretty left out, you were off in your own world.”

All Jonghyun has to do is close his eyes, and he’s there again.

“Taemin-ah.”

 

“Is it good?”

Taemin nods, cheeks bulging, mouth too full to fit words. “Mmm.”

“Mmm?” Jonghyun presses him. Taemin smiles. “Mmmm?”

Laughs.

“You eat, too.”

If Jonghyun was sure he could keep it down, he would. He’s lucky jokbal is good for hangovers. He should be grateful that it’s lunch not dinner, too, because Taemin thinks jokbal is good with soju, and it’s too early in the day to drink. He got through this morning on Dawn 808 and two bottles of water and five texts back-and-forth with Taemin, but the smell of alcohol alone would probably turn Jonghyun inside out. Still…if they eat quickly he’ll have time to drive Taemin home and nothing else. And if they don’t, if they linger, their time will run out all same, and Jonghyun will have to put Taemin in a taxi or watch him walk away.

Taemin doesn’t remind him to talk next, just prompts him, “I thought you said you’d picked ‘Deja-Boo,’” then tells him, “Don’t let them push you around, hyung.”

“You do all the time.” Jonghyun’s head is swimming. Maybe he should just give up and put it down, maybe Taemin’s smile is too bright. “I spoiled you.”

Taemin laughs again. When he leans across the table to stuff Jonghyun’s mouth and shut him up, Jonghyun can’t stop him, can’t say no, so he chews and chews instead, fat and grease and salt. It’ll take a while before it reaches his stomach, right? And when it does, it should help. Right? He fights to swallow, ducking his head so Taemin won’t see it on his face, fishing for his phone in his pocket. Finding his voice again.

“Do you want to listen? They gave me two from the same team. Dsign Music. There’s one from the Underdogs, too.”

All Jonghyun has to do is hum a few bars, and Taemin’s eyes light up in recognition. “Ah! They showed me this one along with Sonata. I remember thinking it would suit you better.”

“Why is that?”

“Just…” Taemin trails off. Frowns, like he’s thinking it over. Thinking Jonghyun over. “The song doesn’t do much by itself, it’s nothing special without vocals. And you put so much into your voice.” He smiles again. “And the lyrics for the guide were really stupid.”

“Sometimes stupid is good, Taeminnie. If you can find a simpler way to say something it’s usually a better one, too.”

Taemin searches his face, chopsticks hovering over his rice bowl. “I thought you didn’t like being obvious. That’s what you always say.”

“Maybe that’s my problem.”

Maybe he should just tell Creative, _I don’t want to listen to your demos. Tell me what I have to do to make you listen to mine._ Maybe he should tell Taemin, _I want this to be a date._ He uncoils his ear buds and reaches for him instead. Taemin leans in and lets him put them in, and for one moment Jonghyun has Taemin’s face framed in his hands, sun shining in Taemin’s hair and burning Jonghyun’s eyes out of his head. The next he’s sat back and pushed play. Taemin brings the first demo to life little by little, furrowing his brow, bobbing his head, strange half-smile half-frown splitting his face. Halfway in he takes one ear bud out just to ask, “Is this the one I’m supposed to hate?”

“You’re not supposed to anything. Just listen and then tell me what you think.” Taemin does what he’s told for once. The first part, at least. He’s probably working on the second, too, he’s not just sitting there eating his weight in jokbal. “Well?”

“I like ‘Deja-Boo’ better,” Taemin says, not bothering to cover his mouth.

“I don’t need you to tell me what I want to hear, Taeminnie.”

“Just what I think,” Taemin retorts. At the look on Jonghyun’s face he adds, “That’s what you said.”

“Are you mad?” comes rushing out of Jonghyun, “Don’t be mad, baby.” Taemin’s face falls wide open, because yes, Jonghyun said that out loud. He should bite his tongue off but the next thing is, “Don’t be, please. I’m just, I’m so tired.”

If he went for Taemin’s hand lying on the tabletop he’d make everything ten times worse, so he touches his fingers to Taemin’s wrist. Taemin tenses like he forgot it was there, then goes still, eyes flitting to Jonghyun’s face. Taemin’s ears are red when he cuts them away.

“It sounds like you just want to hear bad stuff. I’m not lying, hyung, I prefer ‘Deja-Boo,’” he gets out, kind of strangled.

Jonghyun does his best to take mercy on him, drawing his hand away and saying, “Don’t worry, it’s going on the album at least,” instead of, _Don’t lie. You didn’t hate it, right? Me calling you that._ “It’s the only demo of mine they’ve okayed. They’re on the fence about ‘Love Belt.’ I asked to work with Younha sunbaenim, maybe I was too greedy.”

Taemin nods, relaxing back into his chair. Smiling again. “Who’s going to do the rap on this one? You~?”

“I haven’t said yes to them, either, so no one,” Jonghyun says, too fast, and then it’s all coming out. “They said no to ‘Beautiful Tonight.’ They said it was wrong for me.”

“You wrote it, though,” Taemin says, making a face that probably shouldn’t look this cute to Jonghyun. Then, so gently it shouldn’t hurt this much, “What did you say?”

“I don’t know, nothing.”

Taemin takes that in, then says back, “When I was in recording, you told me to stop thinking about it in terms of saying no. To get them to say yes to me on some things.”

“I should take my own advice?”

“Mm. Give and take.” Taemin waits until he swallows to finish that thought, and then some more, staring into Jonghyun’s face like he’ll find the words he’s looking for written across it. “It’s like you said, just because you take an easier path doesn’t mean it’s the wrong one. You got this far on your own, but you can’t produce an album all by yourself, and it’s too much to fight them on everything. You’ll end up with nothing.” He reaches for the pitcher and fills Jonghyun’s water glass, which is when he realizes it’s empty. He was just holding onto it to hold onto something. “If they want you to do this song so badly, you can use that. And putting it in your album doesn’t mean you have to make it the title track.”

When did Taemin start making this much sense?

“It means I have to give up on one of my own songs,” Jonghyun admits. “They said six tracks. That’s it.”

“It’s an EP, hyung. That's what I got,” Taemin replies, like that much is obvious. Maybe it is. It is. “It took me months to record that much. Are you going to stay stuck in preproduction forever?”

It’s always been so easy to tell Taemin the right things and so hard to do them himself. All these years he’s tried to keep that second part from Taemin, but he’s on two hours of sleep and three bottles of soju and they only have fifteen minutes left before Jonghyun has to get back. Just getting up is going to take everything he has.

“I had everything perfect in my head,” he says helplessly. “My album. It’s so hard trying to get it out.”

Taemin shakes his head at Jonghyun, making him dizzy. “That’s useless. I want a real copy.”

Jonghyun wants Taemin’s smile. He wants Taemin’s eyes on his skin, Taemin’s arms around him, Taemin’s thigh under his head, his fingers combing through Jonghyun’s hair. He wants to know when the next time will be. He doesn’t want this time to end.

Jonghyun picks up his chopsticks. All he has to say is, “Signed?” and Taemin’s mouth crooks.

“Mm.”

“If I’m busy my manager can do it,” Jonghyun says airily.

“Yongdeok hyung? That’s no good, I wrote something weird on his copy of _Ace,”_ Taemin replies, laughing. He sneaks Jonghyun a little look, and Jonghyun thinks about pretending not to notice, but then Taemin says to his food, “You’d probably write something weirder, though.”

Jonghyun’s fine being weird. On another day maybe he’d be happy. “I have all three of your photocards now. Maybe I’ll start collecting your Shinee ones~”

“You’re my fan, that much is expected.”

Then why is he blushing?

“You’re not mine?” As soon as it comes into his head it’s out of his mouth, no time for self-control, and that’s all it takes, now his heart is going crazy. Jonghyun slides his foot towards Taemin’s until the toe of his shoe meets Taemin’s. “Mm? Taemin-ah?”

“I am.”

He shoots Jonghyun another look. There’s this smile on his face, shy, painful, so sweet when literally everything else is making Jonghyun sick, the lights, the sun, the smell of food, the chatter from other tables and the news blaring on the TV, last night, this morning, the afternoon he’s going to have. Jonghyun put it there. When he catches up to his hand it’s already closed around his phone again.

“What about this one?”

Taemin’s too quick for him this time, taking his ear buds from him and untangling them in time for Jonghyun to start the second Dsign Music demo. Jonghyun steals one back, headache and all, because wherever this song takes Taemin, he wants to follow.

 

A few days later he still ends up in the SM cafeteria. Alone.

“What are you working on?”

Or not. Jonghyun looks up from his tray to find Taeyeon sliding into the seat across from him. Which, what? TTS is in the middle of promotions, they came back last week, she should be somewhere else.

“If you’re here that means it’s your day off,” Jonghyun guesses.

She shrugs. Nods. “Guess you could call it that.”

“And you’re spending it here?” That makes more sense to Jonghyun than it should. “It’s the only way you get out of the house, right? Coming in.”

Jonghyun regrets it as soon as it’s out of his mouth, because maybe a month ago she had a boyfriend to take out every single day she was free, but Taeyeon doesn’t falter. “Yep, noona is a loser~.” She smiles at the look on his face before he can try to get it off. “What about you, how’s your thing going?”

“Is that a real question? Sorry, I’m not used to those.”

“Aigoo.”

Taeyeon flicks him on the forehead. He should have just put his head down and waited for his day to disappear instead of whining. Every single person in every single one of his meetings said good morning. They thanked him for his input. They asked him what he thought of their suggestions, asked him if he’d given more thought about Dsign Music’s demos, if he’d like to record over the guide with his own voice or his own words even, told him he won’t have to submit any of his lyrics except to check for obscenities. Which means he can write whatever he wants, about himself, his life, his head, his heart. 'Can.' Could. Would, if everything he gets down these days wasn’t shit.

“Is it that bad, going solo? Taeminnie seemed to handle it okay,” Taeyeon says.

“He’s Taeminnie, I’m me,” is all Jonghyun has to say to that. Her eyes linger on his face, though, almost like she’s expecting more of an answer. “They called you in to talk again, didn’t they?”

Taeyeon nods. Picks at her rice. “They said they’ll put it in my contract, if I sign. I guess I’m worth a lot.”

“If?”

Jonghyun doesn’t know if that’s a stupid question or not. It’s up to Taeyeon to tell him to shut up.

“I’m more worried about the others,” Taeyeon tells him instead. “SNSD could probably go on without me, but if I’m the only one left, I don’t know if I could.”

“It’s that bad?” Jonghyun says, as gently as he can.

She shoots him a look. “It’s not for you guys?”

Maybe if it were two or three years ago. Breaking into Japan meant they’d made it, but their only reward was to go all the way back to the beginning, spend another year running when they had no breath left in their bodies. Now, though…

“Minho’s happy with his drama, Kibummie’s too busy to fight with them right now, Jinki hyung’s given up on life, and Taeminnie is Taeminnie. They haven’t pulled any shit with us, either, except using Taeminnie to cover for everyone else.”

“That leaves you,” Taeyeon says, studying him with narrowed eyes. When she goes on, “They gave you your way on your album,” it’s this close to being a question.

It is for Jonghyun, too. “They gave me a chance. They’re doing everything they can to make sure I don’t fuck it up~”

Taeyeon laughs.

“We’re too alike, you know that? Sometimes I’m happy I have someone to talk to, and sometimes it just depresses me more.”

“What am I supposed to say to that?” Jonghyun huffs, forcing his voice out around the pain in his chest, returning the face she makes with interest. “You’re staying, right?”

She takes her time answering. “I will if you will.”

“Honestly, if I were at any other agency, everything would be so much easier,” Jonghyun says. “But at the same time, if I succeeded somewhere else, I don’t know if it would mean anything to me. My whole life is here.”

Shinee. Shinee’s Jonghyun. Jinki and Kibum and Minho. Taemin.

Taeyeon makes a face like his words taste bitter. Which, he’s the one who said them. “I know some people who’d disagree with you. Well. One person.”

“Sooyeon noona?” Her face says he got her right. “Are you talking shit or are you just saying?” Then, quickly, before she even starts, “Don’t talk shit, noona. Not to me, at least.”

Too late.

“I’m just saying, some of us have given up everything for SNSD, and some of us want it both ways.”

“Noona.”

“How would you like it if one of your members started messing with Shinee’s schedules? First she can make it to practice, then all of the sudden she can’t. She can do the subunit, then she’s too busy. She wants to go on hiatus, then she doesn’t, then she’ll quit, then she’d rather die. Personal lives are one thing, if she wanted to get married or whatever I’d understand.” Would Jinki and the others, if he told them he wants to date Taemin? Taeyeon narrows her eyes at the look on his face, reading it upside down and backwards, getting him wrong: _Would you, after what happened with Baekhyunnie?_ And before Jonghyun can even try to fix it, sharp enough to cut glass, she says, “She’s doing this to us over money, Jonghyun-ah.”

Sooyeon’s business is a lot more than that, it’s about having her own life, having something when SM decides she’s too old to wear hot pants or sing about love, doing what she loves, but it’s not Jonghyun’s place to tell her that. And it’s so much safer to put his head down, whine, “Noona~”

Silence. She doesn’t ditch him, though. Just sits there and doesn’t eat and doesn’t eat. When he looks again she stares down at her tray instead.

“I keep thinking about what I’d do with my life if I hadn’t done this,” she says with difficulty. “Like, what if I’d never auditioned? What if I’d quit training when it got hard? What if I hadn’t made the cut for SNSD?” Taeyeon, not make it? She pauses, fiddling with her chopsticks. Takes a deep breath. Smiles at him again. “But I’ve never thought about what I’d do now if I didn’t sign.”

Jonghyun never has, either. He only met Taemin because they both dreamed of this life, and now there’s no going back.

Taeyeon catches the look on his face and doesn’t ask, just picks at her lunch. So does he. He’s not sure when it’s okay to ask Taemin to eat with him again, but if he waits for Taemin to ask him he might wait forever, until the next time Taemin texts him one single word at three in the morning. That was the first time in Jonghyun’s life jokbal made his heart flutter. Maybe next time it’ll be hanwoo. Pork bone stew. Oxtail soup. And same as a few days ago, he’ll drive Taemin home and not old his hand and not kiss him goodbye, just tell Taemin he’ll text him when he gets back okay, then check his phone all day, waiting for the reply that won’t come. And when he gets up the next day he’ll go back to all this shit, and wait some more.

“Noona.”

“What?”

“How do you write about someone you can’t put into words?”

Jonghyun won’t touch the first track they gave him. But the second one, maybe. Every time he listens to it, it touches him deeper inside. Even in the grease and smoke, it touched Taemin.

“You’ve said that to me before,” Taeyeon reminds him. Has he? “Last time it was about Taeminnie. Who is it this time?”

Jonghyun needs a moment just to get past Taemin’s name, face heating, heart beating like wings in his chest. “Someone.”

She frowns, studying him. “Someone who’s not your girlfriend, you mean.”

“Never mind.”

Should he get up now, get out? It’s almost time anyway.

“What’s so hard about love?” Taeyeon says, instead of _Aigoo, how dirty_ or, _Aren’t you worried about the wrong thing? Break up with her if that’s how it is, Jonghyun-ah_ or, _Are you cheating on her?_ She wrinkles her nose, says around a mouthful of rice, “Just say I love you. I love you, baby, since it’s a song. I love x part of you. You’re so beautiful. I want to be with you forever. Blah blah blah.”

Is it okay if Jonghyun laughs? He tries, breathless and ragged, so fake it grates on his ears. “Stick to singing, noona.”

“You, too.” That’s not a retort, it’s a suggestion. “If it’s that hard, get someone else to write it, then put everything into your performance.”

“No one else knows them like I do.”

“I won’t ask who you’re talking about,” Taeyeon says, “but you said it’s about love, not them.”

Same thing. And anyway, “I didn’t say that, you did.”

“Did I? Whatever.” Taeyeon waves that off and puts some thought into it. Then says, slowly, “There are more things I can’t put into words than things I can. But sometimes you don’t need to use words. Like, it’s all still there inside me, you know? That’s what my voice is for, to let it out.”

“And your body.”

Taeyeon leans over to flick him on the forehead again and Jonghyun’s too busy thinking about Taemin to stop her in time. He didn’t even mean anything dirty. Just…the things Taemin says when he dances. The things his eyes say when he looks at Jonghyun.

“You’re not the only one who’s been in love, Jonghyun-ah,” Taeyeon tells him. “If you don’t want stupid lyrics, just don’t ask me to do it~. But there has to be someone whose writing you like. ”

A lot of people. But there’s exactly one person whose writing Jonghyun likes better than his own: Wheesung hyung. Jonghyun went into his audition for SM dreaming of becoming a composer, not an idol. He had no clue how hard it was to do both until training ate up his entire life and he started trying to write his own stuff. He took from everything he could, things his friends said, things he read in books, lines from songs he liked. Whenever that meant every single line he’d look the lyrics up, and ninety-nine percent of the time he’d find Wheesung’s name. Since meeting him, Jonghyun’s never confessed that he used to plagiarize him as a kid, and back then it never felt like he was taking someone else’s words and pretending they were his own, because Wheesung’s felt like they already were. And if he asked Wheesung hyung to write him something now…maybe they still would?

“Tell Kibummie happy birthday, by the way,” Taeyeon says on their way out into the hall.

“Huh?”

“You forgot?” She clicks her tongue, shakes her head at him. “I have eight birthdays to keep straight and I managed to remember one of yours, too. Don’t worry, if you forget again, I told Jinki too. He said you guys were having a party, FYI.”

“The five of us?” Jonghyun blurts out. And then it’s out there and it’s torture, trying to take it back. “Kibummie can see us anytime, he’d rather see Woohyunnie. Jinki hyung just wants an excuse to buy a cake. And Minho’s busy filming, and I have Blue Night.” It’d hurt more if he let himself hope. Still, he holds her arm, holds her back. “All five of us.”

She gives him a look like he’s crazy. He is. But then all she says is, “How would I know?”

And all he hears is, _You might get to see Taeminnie today. Not tomorrow, not next week, next month, that next time Taemin texts you or calls you or asks for food because he can’t ask for you. Today._

 

The rest of the day lasts five thousand years. Blue Night, ten. The whole drive back to the dorm, he keeps telling himself, Taemin doesn’t have to get up tomorrow. He hasn’t been sleeping anyway. He goes to bed late these days, he called Jonghyun at three in the morning just last week. Jinki and Minho won’t let him leave. Taemin will find an excuse to stay, just so he can see Jonghyun’s face.

Taemin will be there.

Jonghyun opens the door hoping for Taemin’s voice, that stupidly cute laugh of his, a faceful of birthday cake and then maybe Taemin under his hands if he’s too slow running away, Taemin, Taemin, Taemin. All he finds is Minho and Jinki sprawled out on the couch.

“I missed everything?”

“Kibummie ditched us for Woohyunnie,” Minho says. “He might come around tomorrow night.”

Jonghyun thinks long and hard about escaping into their room, shoving his feet into his shoes and running all the way to Taemin’s parents' building, drowning his feelings in the shower, right up until his ass hits the couch. Maybe Taemin lost his phone in the cushions. Maybe he would need it back tonight, maybe Jonghyun could meet him halfway. Taemin probably pigged out earlier, but maybe he’d buy Jonghyun coffee to thank him, and Jonghyun would buy time, drinking Taemin in instead. And then, who knows. Maybe the chance he’d answer Jonghyun’s calls would still round down to zero.

“There’s still cake,” Jinki adds, like that’ll get whatever look Jonghyun is making off his face. “Guess I’ll have to buy him another one.”

“Jinki hyung and Taeminnie have eaten like half of it already. Taeminnie’s on his third piece.”

“Fourth,” Taemin shouts from the kitchen.

_Taemin._

Jonghyun’s on his feet again before his brain catches up. And then how is he supposed to think, when Taemin’s right there, hunched over his plate, hair falling into in his eyes. He meets Jonghyun’s like it’s nothing, because it is. He’s only Taemin, this is only two thirty on a Tuesday night at the dorm, and Taemin’s shampoo smells the same as it always does and there’s no such thing as standing too close to him. Jonghyun’s heart won’t explode, and who knows if he’s even making Taemin’s beat faster.

Taemin keeps eating.

“What flavor?”

“Strawberry,” Taemin gets out. That time they kissed, Taemin tasted like kimchi. He has frosting on his lips. “Don’t you want any?”

Jonghyun gets it with his thumb instead of his tongue. “Is it good?”

“It’s cake, hyung.” Taemin offers him the next bite. “Mm?”

Somehow Jonghyun’s no becomes yes, looking at him. Taemin draws his chopsticks away at the last second, swirls them around and around and around. It’s his smile that makes Jonghyun dizzy. He doesn’t realize he’s moved until he has Taemin’s wrist trapped in his hand, soft skin at his fingertips, Taemin’s scent, that stupid, stupid laugh. But he can’t eat Taemin, because Tuesday, dorm, Jinki, Minho, _Dahae,_ so he goes for the cake instead.

And ends up with frosting up his nose. Because Taemin.

Taemin laughs harder, squirming free, making a run for it, like Jonghyun would forget and let go or something. It’s so easy to pull him back in, so much easier to go for the cake fingers first and paint them across Taemin’s face, until he doesn’t know what’s pinker, Taemin’s cheeks or the frosting smeared across them. Or his mouth. His mouth. Pink and soft and full. There are crumbs clinging to the corners. What would his breath smell like? Strawberries? And maybe he’d taste too sweet. Maybe he’s standing there just asking to be kissed, dark eyes, red ears, pink, pink mouth. When Jonghyun leans in Taemin’s breath hitches, palm pressed to Jonghyun’s chest, fingers curling into his shirt instead of pushing him away.

“Cake is for eating, Jonghyun-ah.”

Next second Jinki’s gotten between it and Jonghyun, and Taemin’s flipped the faucet on. He lets Jonghyun wash his hand first, standing there pressed together shoulder-to-hip, warm and whiting out everywhere they touch, lets him look all he wants and doesn’t look back. Maybe he’d let Jonghyun pat his ass when he bends over the sink to throw water on his face, let Jonghyun’s handprint soak into his skin. Jonghyun doesn’t even let himself stare, five seconds doesn’t count. Any longer and he’d have to go take a shower instead of throwing himself back down on the couch, and who knows how much Taemin he would miss.

Jinki follows suit, taking his plate with him. He ignores the look Minho throws him, reaching for his book. Jonghyun ignores them both for Taemin, who’s standing over them with his bangs dripping.

“You stole my seat,” Taemin tells Jinki.

“Uh huh.”

Jonghyun digs his toes into the back of Taemin’s knee. “Hyung is old, Taemin-ah. Sit on the floor.”

Taemin sits on Jonghyun instead.

Heavy across Jonghyun’s thighs, knocking the breath out of him, so warm and soft Jonghyun might never breathe again. But somehow his muscles kick in, and he winds his arms around Taemin’s waist before Taemin can decide the joke’s over, slide off Jonghyun and crush Jinki instead. Taemin stiffens against him and Jonghyun’s next heartbeat might break his ribs, because what if he’s doing something wrong. He is. Who is he trying to lie to? Jonghyun’s heart keeps beating, and he holds on. What if Taemin hates him for it? But then slowly, slowly, slowly, Taemin relaxes into him. His hand finds Jonghyun’s wrist, fingers closing over it, soft, gentle, there. And now Minho will tell Taemin that he’ll kill Jonghyun, get off, come on, we’ll make room for you, or Jinki will tell Jonghyun that he’s old too, his bones are fragile, a hundred thirty pounds might do him in. Jonghyun should be telling himself to let go, telling his blood to stop rushing to his dick and his face, none left for his brain.

The people on the television keep talking and finally Minho says, “Did you leave any for Kibummie?”

“Did you and him switch bodies or something?” Jinki retorts with his mouth full.

“I wish. Then I’d be having steak and champagne.”

“More like having birthday sex.” It’s out of Jonghyun’s mouth before he can think, that word right in Taemin’s ear, but all he meant was, “It’s two in the morning, Minho-yah.”

“Thanks for the mental image.”

When Minho flops back the couch groans, shakes. Jonghyun sinks into the cushions and Taemin sinks into his lap, shifting his weight, getting comfortable. Which, how can he? Jonghyun’s dying, halfway there already. Two inches and he’d have Taemin’s nape at his lips, Taemin’s scent under his skin, filling him up. Two inches and maybe Taemin would never speak to him again, and Minho would judge him for the rest of his life and if he told Kibum that wouldn’t be very long, and.

“I made dinner and everything. I wouldn’t have bothered if he’d told me he had a date.”

“How was he supposed to know?” Jinki nudges Minho. “It’s probably better he didn’t. When was the last time you tried to cook, 2010?”

Jonghyun leans in and presses his nose into Taemin’s hair. Breathes him in. Breathes. Taemin starts, then cranes back to shoot him a half a look, like he’s not the one making Jonghyun crazy, setting fire to his skin, eating his thoughts and getting him hard, wiggling back, _sitting on Jonghyun’s dick._

“If it was that bad you should’ve fed yourself, not filled up on dessert. You too, Taeminnie. They’re fitting us for our stage wear this week.”

Jonghyun’s hips move on their own, no relief, just Taemin, taemintaemintaemin. Taemin’s spine snaps straight, fingertips digging into Jonghyun’s wrist. He needs a second just to say normally, “Where I get fat doesn’t count for that,” but Jonghyun is going to need so much more than that, his whole life maybe. He hides in Taemin’s shirt, each breath his last, but his lungs keep working, his heart keeps beating, which means his muscles are still there, which means he can get up and go hide in the shower instead. He should. Yank his shirt down over his crotch, fold his hands over it or steal Jinki’s book, make a run for it, just laugh it off, ha ha awkward boner. Not that last thing. Taemin’s not a joke, he owns Jonghyun’s heart and his dick and his everything, and Jonghyun is so in love with him it’s not funny.

Minho’s back on Kibum already, anyway. “He never even does anything for my birthday.”

“You have to ask him first,” Jinki replies patiently. “Tell him what you want and he’ll give it to you, that’s how he works.”

“That’s not how I work, though. If you have to ask there’s no point. And if he just tried, he’d probably get me right on his first guess.”

“Aigoo,” Jinki sighs, glancing sidelong at Jonghyun, like he’s supposed to be helping or something. Like he still knows how to talk. Jinki’s on his own. “Suddenly I feel like watching _Tazza~”_ Wrong. “Something else? Movies are all the same to me.”

He means they’re all a waste of his time. Not Minho’s though. “Then… _The President’s Last Bang._ No, _Joint Security Area._ Let me see what I have.” Minho climbs to his feet, mouth hitching into a smile. “You’re not allowed to complain about length, I know you have to go in later than me tomorrow.”

Two and a half hours, lights off, volume too high, Jinki talking over it to ask stupid questions and Minho talking over him to shut him up, _Taemin,_ just like this.

“Are you really going to watch with him?” Taemin says to Jinki.

He tugs at Jonghyun’s wrist, breaking his hold, climbing to his feet, awkward, clumsy, fingers clenched in the hem of his shirt. And just like that, Jonghyun is alone again.

“What, you’re not? Where are you going?”

“Bathroom.”

“It’s too late to go home and you don’t have to get up until October. Don’t leave me here to die alone. Taemin-ah. Taemin-aaaah~”

Jinki throws himself along the couch and makes a grab for Taemin, but Taemin skirts around him, heading down the hall. By the time Jinki gives it up Jonghyun’s halfway across the room.

“You too?”

“Bed.”

The bathroom door is wide open, so it’s okay if Jonghyun walks right in. Taemin doesn’t look up, fumbling with the toothpaste cap, toothbrush clenched between his teeth. When Jonghyun steps up behind him and takes him in his arms again it clatters into the sink. Taemin’s eyes flit up to Jonghyun’s in the mirror. Jonghyun holds them. Holds him. Soft and warm, pressed flush against Jonghyun, trapped between him and the counter, hands in fists, stomach rising and falling under Jonghyun’s, quicker, quicker.

“I thought about you all day,” Jonghyun says into his neck, lips brushing Taemin’s skin with each word. If he could shut up this would be a kiss. “All last night, too. Yesterday. The day before. Don’t you think about me?”

Taemin gets this look on his face Jonghyun can’t read, torn, two seconds from yelling at Jonghyun or laughing at him, melting into him or wrenching free. And Jonghyun doesn’t know if it’s a reproach or a plea when Taemin tells him, “It’s because I do, hyung. You should know that.”

Should. Jonghyun thought he learned that word back when he first learned how to talk, but the older he gets the less he understands it. And right now.

Jonghyun tightens his arms around him. “You’re a tease. Even if you’re not, you are. Everything you do does things to me.”

Taemin probably came in here to get away from Jonghyun, but he doesn’t move now, not until Jonghyun presses closer, presses his dick into Taemin’s ass, and Taemin makes this tiny noise, pressing back. Jonghyun sees white. And if he slips his hand up Taemin’s shirt, spreads his fingers over his skin…

Taemin’s face twists, teeth sinking into his lip. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Taemin makes another noise, pained, bit off. Jonghyun doesn’t let Taemin twist around to face him, doesn’t give him his mouth, lose himself in Taemin’s. Just holds his eyes in the mirror. “What about me, Taemin-ah?”

“Everything.”

Jonghyun slides his hand down Taemin’s body and finds him hard. The moment he touches him Taemin gasps, stiffens against Jonghyun, then _moans,_ low and broken, between his teeth, and everything goes white hot. Jonghyun’s never done this before, only to himself, and he’s doing it to himself now, cupping Taemin’s dick through his pants, squeezing, rubbing, whatever gets him to make those noises, make that face. Taemin stares right back, flushed and dark-eyed and trembling.

“Look at yourself. Look.” Should he turn Taemin’s chin, make him? All Taemin has eyes for is Jonghyun. “You want it. You want me.”

_“Hyung.”_

“You’d let me.”

“Please,” Taemin says, grinding into Jonghyun’s dick, pushing into his hand, burning at both ends, “please, hyung. Please.”

“You love me.”

Taemin strains to press his mouth to Jonghyun’s, clumsy, frantic. Jonghyun should take it slow, figure out what makes him sigh and moan, show him what a kiss should be—should let Taemin go and lie and say he’s sorry and go sleep in his car—but his teeth close over Taemin’s bottom lip, so full and soft his brain short circuits. Next thing he knows Taemin’s turned in his arms and he’s got Taemin up against the counter, his tongue as deep inside Taemin’s mouth as it can go, and Taemin’s hands are fisted in his hair and Jonghyun’s are _everywhere._ Up Taemin’s shirt, down the curve of his spine, closing over his ass, kneading, squeezing. When he curls his fingers Taemin arches into his hands, fingernails digging into Jonghyun’s scalp, breaking away just to breathe, harsh, hitched. Jonghyun doesn’t need air, he doesn’t need sunlight or food or sleep or water, only Taemin.

Taemin pushes him away.

Should Jonghyun pull him back in, hold him close, not let go, make Taemin hit him again? Turn Taemin back around, make him look this time, see what he’s doing to himself? Should Jonghyun tell him he’ll die without him? Should. Should. Should.

“Should we do _Mr. Vengeance_ or _Lady Vengeance?”_ Minho says from the doorway. _“Oldboy’s_ out, it’s the only one Jinki hyung remembers.” He looks from Taemin to Jonghyun, Jonghyun to Taemin. As long as he doesn’t look down, because Jonghyun didn’t know, Taemin just pushed him, no warning, no time to think, no time to learn how again. But whatever, Minho’s already seen the look on Jonghyun’s face, and all he has to say is, “You sure you don’t want to watch?”

“Tired,” Taemin supplies, garbled, foamy-mouthed.

Minho frowns. “Don’t brush so soon after drinking pop, Taeminnie. You’ll damage your teeth.”

“Night, Minho-yah.”

And then it’s just the two of them again, silence loud and fake and bright. If Taemin says anything it’ll break into pieces, too tiny to see, sharp enough to draw blood, but he’s never careful.

“I don’t even know which one of us is stupider.”

Jonghyun is fine being stupid. He’s fine being a shitty boyfriend and a shitty hyung and a shitty person. He’s not. He’s falling apart. He can’t take this anymore. And now he can’t touch Taemin, because what if Taemin hates it. What if he pushes him away again, kicks Jonghyun out and locks the door, jerks off in the shower burning through all his favorite porn scenes, all those other men, just so he won’t see Jonghyun when he closes his eyes.

“I love you,” Jonghyun says.

“We talked about this, hyung,” Taemin says around his toothbrush, almost desperate. They did. They talked and Taemin broke both their hearts, and now he wants to act like he can tell the pieces apart, his and Jonghyun’s, and put them back together. “We can’t.” Taemin tries smiling at him. “It makes no sense, anyway. You and me.”

So Jonghyun should just wait until he finds the right person? That again?

“I love you. You think I just go around falling in love with people every other day, you think I’m that easy?” Jonghyun needs to shut up. He needs to keep his voice down. He needs better words, sweeter words, to break himself open and let Taemin see inside, as deep as this feeling goes. Anything but, “You’re easier than me, every other month you have someone new, the only difference is you never do anything about it.”

Something in Taemin’s face breaks.

“You’re right.” Jonghyun’s not, it’s been years since Taemin’s last crush. And even if he were right he would still be wrong. “It’s been three months this time, there’s no way it’d last four.” Taemin spits, hair falling into his face, then leaves his toothbrush on the sink and makes for the door with his head still down. Makes it so easy for Jonghyun to take him by the arms, bring him back. “I’m not the one with a girlfriend, hyung.” Again, he tries to escape, and again, Jonghyun can’t stop himself from stopping him. “I just liked them, okay? I liked them. I never fucked them.”

He jerks out of Jonghyun’s grip. Jonghyun follows him into their bedroom, closing the door behind them, watching as Taemin flops onto his bed, burying his face in his pillow. Jonghyun fights everything inside him screaming at him to go over there, sink down next to him, roll Taemin over. He has no right.

“I haven’t been with Dahae. Not since the night I texted you.”

“She’s your girlfriend.”

That’s what Taemin said at lunch that day. That’s all he ever says. 

“I closed my eyes and thought of you,” Jonghyun tells him. And then, because he can’t shut up, because why should he, because it’s true, “Hyung is a piece of shit, huh.”

“I’m shittier,” Taemin says, muffled by his pillow or stuffed up, but something. Is he crying, did Jonghyun make him cry? His blood is still pounding and he’s so hard it hurts, all for Taemin, and he made him cry. Such a piece of shit. “I hate her.”

“Taemin-ah.”

“It’s not okay, hyung. You can’t make it okay.”

“Taemin-ah, look at me.”

“Why did you have to text me?” Taemin bursts out. “You know what she is, you know, so why.”

Jonghyun opens his mouth and, “I don’t love her,” comes rushing up to meet him.

Is that any excuse? That’s worse. Dahae held him and kissed him, took him inside her and told him when she was getting close, same as she’s done all this past year, and hearing her voice made Jonghyun’s skin crawl. He came biting back Taemin’s name. And ever since then…he’s busy, he’s still at work. He’s tired. Blue Night. I’d just keep you up, Dahae-yah, I always do. You need your sleep.

“Why can’t you tell her that?”

Dahae-yah, we should stop pretending.

“Taemin-ah…” _Tell me that I’m not allowed to see her or talk to her, that you’re not okay with it. Tell me you trust me with her, that you know I won’t touch her again. Tell me I’m yours. Stop pretending I’m not._ Jonghyun gets the light and crosses the room to his own bed. His muscles last that long, then a little longer, phone, wallet, belt, whatever. “You know how bad filming gets. She’s never had to take care of herself, she’d be alone without me.” She’s alone when she’s with him. Jonghyun is, too. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

Taemin works his blanket out from under his body, wriggling, kicking at it, then finally sitting up and yanking it away, breathless with frustration, choked with tears. Taemin’s angrier than Jonghyun’s ever seen him when he turns on him. “Tell her.”

“I’m telling you.”

Jonghyun jerks his shirt over his head and goes for his pants. Taemin can’t turn away, lying there curled up in his clothes, eyes burning into Jonghyun’s skin, kissing Jonghyun’s dick, still half-hard. Jonghyun lets him look all he wants. Doesn’t tease him or touch himself or make eyes at him, make that sexy face Taemin always laughs at, tell him every single thing he’d do to him, all the things Taemin could never ask for and all the things he wouldn’t even know to. Just stands there, naked and wanting, and looks back.

Taemin cuts his eyes away first, turning over to face the wall, leaving Jonghyun with his back, his half of the room, his cold empty bed. The clock. Minutes pass. Hours will.

“I know I fucked up,” Jonghyun says, while he still has time. “I was wrong, I was out of my mind, I had nowhere else to go.”

“Your mom’s place. _Your_ place, you bought it so that you could live together.”

“I didn’t want her to see me like this.” And he doesn’t want Taemin to hear his voice, not if it comes out like _that,_ but what can he do? “If she saw me she’d try to fix me.”

Silence. Taemin sighs. More silence. Crawling on the ceiling, crawling up Taemin’s hunched spine, crawling under Jonghyun’s skin, his eyelids, silence. silence. silence. And then finally Taemin’s blanket rustles, and when Jonghyun opens his eyes, Taemin is right there again.

“You should be happy, hyung,” Taemin tells him. “I know you’re not, I know how hard it is for you, but you have to try.”

Jonghyun swallows everything back. “Are you happy?”

Taemin just looks at him. “You asked me that already.”

That day on the roof. All the days leading up to it, all Jonghyun did was think. If he should confess, what he would say, what face Taemin would make, what he should do if Taemin turned him down, what Taemin’s first kiss should be like. The moment Taemin’s lips touched his he stopped. He’s so fucking selfish.

“You never answered me,” Jonghyun says. “You just asked about me instead.”

“Now you know how I feel.” Of all things, Taemin smiles. “Whenever I try to do something for you, you never let me, you always have to do everything. And then at some point I realized I wasn’t trying to do it for you, I was trying to do it for me. How am I supposed to be happy if you’re not?” Right away, there are a million things on the tip of Jonghyun’s tongue, because how is he supposed to be happy without Taemin, and then Taemin goes on, “If Hong Dahae treated you better, I’d probably still hate her—”

“But you could forget me? You could go back to the way we were before,” Jonghyun guesses. “Then I’m happy she treats me the way she treats me. I hope she treats me worse, like trash. Like I deserve.” He rolls over, back to the ceiling, the wall, anything but the look he just put on Taemin’s face. But he can’t hide from himself or from Taemin’s silence, and if Jonghyun doesn’t break it, it really might break him. “You have bad taste in men, Taemin-ah. Before you picked me, even. When you find someone else…” Jonghyun’s throat closes. He clears it and tries again. “When you find someone else, let me meet him first.” Blinks away his tears, because somehow he’s crying. Ten minutes ago he could’ve bent Taemin over the sink and fucked him until all he knew was Jonghyun’s name, and now…and now. “Sometimes I want to want that for you, but then it kills me just thinking about it. You with another man. I don’t think I could take that.” More silence. “Taeminnie? I know you’re not sleeping. You don’t want to hear it? Taemin-ah.”

No good. Jonghyun is no good. Loser. Trash. Just shit. 

“Did you get back with her to hurt me, or something?” Taemin says in a weird voice.

To hurt himself, maybe, but that’s the same thing, Taemin just said. And hurting Taemin hurts Jonghyun.

_Am I hurting you right now, Taemin-ah?_

It fucking hurts. It hurts more to cry. More, because Taemin knows. He can hear each breath as its ripped out of Jonghyun’s chest, and if Jonghyun tried to hold it he’d listen to Jonghyun’s silence instead, and in the end maybe Jonghyun would explode all over him. He can’t hold this in forever.

“I don’t know.”

 

Somehow morning still comes. Somehow Jonghyun slept…two hours. He turns his alarm off instead of rolling over and pretending to sleep, waiting to see if it would wake Taemin up, too. He lets himself look for as long as it takes to find the energy to get out of bed, drinking Taemin in, the mess of his hair, the lines of his body, his sleeping face. And then he forces himself to go shower. And from there…

“Hyung?”

Taemin. When Jonghyun turns Taemin’s there, rubbing his neck, cracking his jaw on a yawn, eyes gummed up with sleep. So normal it hurts.

“Go back to bed,” Jonghyun says as quietly as he can. “It’s only five thirty.”

“Breakfast.”

Taemin can’t survive without it. Jonghyun could survive on just Taemin’s smile for the rest of the week, so he fetches him rice and banchan, heats up leftover soup on the stove, sets two places, prays the smell won’t wake Minho or Jinki up.

Taemin needs a solid five minutes chewing before words start to come back. “Are you driving yourself?”

Is Taemin asking? Would it be okay if Jonghyun did, after last night? When he tries to catch Taemin’s eyes, Taemin keeps them on his rice, and when his fingertips touch Taemin’s wrist, Taemin goes tense, chopsticks pausing.

“Walk me?” Jonghyun says.

Taemin nods. “Yongdeok hyung’s hard to wake up.” Smiles to himself, shy and painful, then at Jonghyun, pushing his glasses up his nose, reaching over to lay kimchi on Jonghyun’s rice. It tastes better than anything he’s eaten in weeks. Spinach. Beansprouts. “If you keep this up he’s gonna hate you by promotions.”

It’s still dark when they step out into the street and Taemin’s still in last night’s clothes.

“Let’s not talk about work,” Jonghyun says.

“What else is there?” Taemin can’t not talk back. He’s smiling again when he goes on, “I heard it’s supposed to get up to ninety today.”

“Hyung isn’t that stupid.”

He’s definitely not smiling back, either.

“I should’ve said eighty. It’s almost October.”

“Since when do you watch the weather?”

When Jonghyun reaches for him, pinches his side, Taemin isn’t quick enough to escape. He doesn’t even try. Maybe if Jonghyun had snuck his hand up his shirt, found skin.

“Kibum hyung’s lucky he missed yesterday. You, too,” Taemin tries next. “Minho hyung is a worse cook than me.”

“You’re still alive, so I doubt it.”

Taemin laughs out loud, so clear in the early morning air. It probably will get hot later, but right now it’s perfect. The moon is still in the sky and Jonghyun can just barely make out his shadow, and every other step he takes his hand brushes Taemin’s.

“What are you going to do today?” he asks Taemin.

“I don’t know. Depends on whether Jonginnie’s busy.”

“If he isn't?”

“I don’t know,” Taemin says again. For one second Jonghyun’s so frustrated with him he can’t see straight, but Taemin takes a guess. “Hang out? He’ll be tired.”

Jonghyun’s in meetings all day, same as yesterday. His album is still in pieces. He doesn’t know when he’ll see Taemin next. “Have fun.”

He’s not just saying that, he means it, but Taemin takes so long just to say back, “Hyung.” When Taemin sneaks a glance at him Jonghyun catches him right away. He’s been staring for who knows how long. “I told him. He knows.”

That’s four people in this world who do, and it hasn’t ended. Well, maybe five.

“I might’ve told Heeyeon-ssi. I can’t remember. Sorry, Taemin-ah.”

Taemin makes a face at him.

“You should be. I hate it when you drink.” But he doesn’t hate Jonghyun. “The night before we had jokbal, right? I could tell you were hungover.”

“Did I smell?”

“If you did I didn’t notice.”

The first thing that comes into Jonghyun’s head is, _Notice me, Taeminnie._ The second is, “Jinki hyung said something?”

He's the one who had to drag Jonghyun out of bed.

“I can always tell with you, is all.” Taemin’s hand finds his. “Next time just call me.”

For one long moment, Jonghyun can’t speak. His feelings are too big, cutting off his words, rearranging his face, filling his heart to bursting. He squeezes Taemin’s hand. Keeps walking. Somehow his feet stay on the ground. Somehow all he can think to say is, “Heeyeon-ssi drove me home. She didn’t drink.”

“Next time don’t drink, either.”

All of the sudden it takes so much to keep his head up, his eyes on Taemin’s face. “Just call you?”

“I don’t know if I’ll answer, you know how I am.”

Taemin doesn’t return Jonghyun’s smile, just hides his, peering at the cracks in the sidewalk, the businesses they pass by, at the crosswalk sign yelling at them to stop, when there are no cars. Jonghyun does what he’s told, pulling Taemin back, lacing their fingers together. They have two blocks left before he has to worry about letting go. But maybe the janitors won’t be there yet, maybe Taemin will take pity on Jonghyun and stick around for coffee, maybe Jonghyun could bribe him with a muffin. And maybe he’ll have a harder time saying goodbye than Jonghyun, maybe if Jonghyun gathers him up in his arms he’ll play sunbae, tell him to do well, again and again until he listens, pat Jonghyun’s butt and send him off. And when his day starts, when he’s locked in with Creative, when he’s staring down cafeteria food, when he comes home to an empty room, maybe Taemin will stay with Jonghyun. His face in the mirror last night, his breathing as he slept, his voice this morning, his hand right now, so small and warm.

“I’m going to try it your way,” Jonghyun says, instead of any of that. “I’ll take what they gave me and ask them to make ‘Beautiful Tonight’ and ‘Fortune Cookie’ bonus tracks.”

The walk sign turns green. Taemin tugs him forward. “Physical only?”

“Mm. Make sure you buy it. Don’t be cheap.”

Taemin laughs again.

"I said I would already."

He’s so cute when he laughs, so pretty when he smiles, and somehow Jonghyun made him. Somehow he’s allowed to keep breathing Taemin’s air.

“Taemin-ah.”

“Yeah?”

Jonghyun holds onto him. Gathers his courage. “If Jonginnie’s busy…”

“Buy me food,” Taemin says promptly, so fast Jonghyun’s head spins. “He won’t call me hyung but he always makes me pay. Soojungie can have him today.”

Okay. One foot in front of the other. Don’t trip over yourself, don’t smile like an idiot. Don’t—

Wait, what?

“Soojungie? Those two?”

“Jinri said so,” Taemin tells him. Which, Jinri’s said a lot of things in her life, Jonghyun shouldn’t need to tell Taemin that. But then Taemin goes on, “Jonginnie kinda did, too. He didn’t believe me at first, either. About you and me. You’re not his style, I guess.”

“As long as I’m yours.”

Those words fluttered around Jonghyun’s head, but maybe he squashed them trying to trap them, show them to Taemin, because they sound all wrong, crooked and weird and just wrong. Taemin either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, eyes on his feet. His ears give him away in the end, give Jonghyun his answer, glowing red, but they reach SM before Jonghyun’s heart gives out. They’re here. Taemin is so sweet and goodbye is so bitter. Only for now, only for a couple hours, and Jonghyun deserves so much worse than staring into Taemin’s face, playing with Taemin’s fingers, full from Taemin feeding him. Taemin came all the way here with him when he probably should have gone back to his parents’ and hidden from Jonghyun again, stayed away for as long as he could, a little longer than last time. 

“Taemin-ah…I meant what I said last night.”

“So did I.”

“All of it.”

Taemin’s looking at his feet again. “Me, too.”

“And you don’t hate me?” Jonghyun gets out.

“If you say you’re sorry I will.” When Jonghyun takes his face in his hands, raises his chin, Taemin meets his eyes with difficulty. “Could you hate me?”

They’re feet away from SM’s doors, on the sidewalk below where they first kissed. The sun is rising and all around them Seoul is waking up. Anyone could walk by. Someone just did.

“I said I love you.”

Taemin’s mouth twists into the strangest smile, tight and awkward, but it reaches his eyes, and it’s in his voice when he replies, “I know, hyung.”

Jonghyun pinches his cheeks. “Aren’t you going to say it back?”

Taemin’s expression flickers, like he’s about to laugh or yell or run for it, and that’s all the warning Jonghyun gets before Taemin puts his arms around his middle and squeezes him tight, hiding his face in Jonghyun's hair.

“I love you,” he says into Jonghyun’s ear. “I love you, so love yourself. Try for me.”

He is trying, as hard as he can. Should he try harder?

_For two songs I might get one and half, and only technically. And if I take the first one from Dsign Music they’ll make me promote with it. They’ll try. I don’t know if I can make it my own, and I don’t know how much I’d have to give up for them to go with ‘Deja-Boo’ instead. You love it because you love me, but they don’t, they’re paying me to be someone else._

_I want to be me, Taemin-ah._

Jonghyun has to let Taemin go to see him again, so he does.

“I’ll text you,” he says. He doesn’t know he’s reached for him again until his fingertips kiss Taemin’s hair, and then it’s too late for him. He strokes it back from Taemin’s face, messy, tangled, like silk, and tucks it behind his ear. “Think about what you want.”

Jonghyun will, too.


	10. Chapter 10

“She was supposed to fly to China for their fan meeting today. Can you imagine?”

“Did she get kicked out of SM too?”

“They cut off negotiations for her renewal. That’s what I heard.”

“Did the other noonas just find out now?”

Maybe that’s a stupid question. All the same, Jonghyun gives Taemin an answer. “The company talked to Taeyeon noona on Friday.”

She had all weekend?

“When did she tell you?”

Jonghyun gives Minho a look. “She texted me this morning, Minho-yah. Right before I told you.”

Taemin was the last to know. He spent the weekend sleeping and eating and making up for lost time with his parents, and killing it until Monday morning group practice for SM Town. And forgetting to set his alarm, after all that. He was only five minutes late, but the air was wrong when he walked in. It wasn’t until the dance instructors let them take thirty that the others broke their silence, huddled on the practice room floor. Sooyeon, out. SNSD, down to eight. She fought with the company. The other noonas fought with her. Taeyeon chose SM over Sooyeon. Sooyeon chose herself over SNSD. Neither of them had a choice, the company chose for them.

Seven years up in smoke. Taemin just wants to know if they went as fast for her as they’ve gone for him. But no one here could tell him that.

“Taeyeon noona couldn’t stop it?” Taemin says.

“Who’s to say she tried? Things have been bad between those two for a while,” Kibum says. No one even says anything, not even Jonghyun, but right away, Kibum’s explaining himself. “I’m just saying, it’s easier to blame the company.”

“Is it?” Minho retorts. “If it’s Taeyeon noona’s fault, okay, I just have to make sure I don’t get on Jinki hyung’s bad side. But if it’s the company—”

“Too late?”

Kibum strains to smile, like see, ha ha, that was a joke, then pokes his finger into Minho’s side just to get him to return it.

“Don’t worry, they don’t have a good side, anyway.”

Taemin was just trying to help, but Kibum’s way of thanking him is crawl over and pinch his cheeks, scold him, “Aigoo, what a brat.” Jonghyun rescues Taemin from Kibum’s fingers, stealing him away, pulling him in to his side, but not from Kibum’s words. “Just because you’re Lee Sooman seonsaengnim’s favorite doesn’t mean you won’t be next.”

Taemin’s laughter takes him by surprise as much as Jonghyun’s fingers, tickling under his ribs.

“Is this something to joke about?” Jinki drains his water bottle and struggles to his feet. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom, and then let’s pick it up again, okay?”

Did Taemin say something wrong? Jonghyun’s face says no, his body says maybe, tense against Taemin’s side, fingers toying with the hem of Taemin’s shirt like he’s forgotten who he’s touching. He hasn’t. When Taemin scoots away Jonghyun’s eyes follow him.

“I didn’t think he was that close with her.”

“It’s not that, Taemin-ah,” Minho says.

“Then what is it?”

“Stress?” Kibum says, like that much is obvious. “He’s been off since May, and now just as he comes back, this happens. SM Town is going to be a mess.”

“He puts a lot on himself, Taeminnie. Too much.” Jonghyun reaches for him again, but only to squeeze his shoulder, rub his back. “You should be able to understand that.”

“Like you don’t?” Minho says before Taemin can.

Jonghyun makes a weird face.

“She was thinking of quitting,” he says out of nowhere. “Sooyeon noona.”

Minho frowns. “Who told you that?”

“Taeyeon noona. Sooyeon noona hadn’t decided anything. Maybe she couldn’t? It doesn’t matter. SM decided for her.”

“Why would she want to quit, though?” Minho presses.

Jonghyun laughs, breathless and ragged, the one that says it’s not funny. And then it really isn’t. “Why wouldn’t she?”

Silence.

_You’re just talking about her, right, hyung? You’re not talking about yourself._

Should Taemin just say that out loud? Would that be okay? Taemin can feel Jonghyun’s eyes on his face, and when he tries looking back, Jonghyun meets his eyes like nothing. Gives him a smile, small and painful but real.

And again, Minho gets there first. “You hate being an idol, but you love music.”

“Is that a question?” Jonghyun shakes his head. “I’m going to sign, Minho-yah. Don’t worry.”

“Good.”

Jonghyun’s eyes flit to Taemin’s face again. He stretches his legs out, leaning on the arm closest to Taemin, just barely leaning into him. “Did you not think I would, or something?”

“It’s not like that. Just…” Minho makes his thinking face, furrowed brow, eyes narrowed. “This year has been so shitty for everyone else, but I think things are looking up for us. Our Taeminnie debuted, now you are, Jinki hyung got through his surgery okay and now we’ve got him back.” He pauses, looking around at the three of them. “I don’t know if he’s talked to you guys yet, but Manager hyung’s friend in the budget office said they’re looking at spring for our comeback. It’s been a long time for us.”

Not for Taemin, and not for Jonghyun, but for the others. For Shinee.

Kibum makes a face at Minho, prompting him, “You didn’t say anything about me.”

Minho returns it with interest. “Happy birthday.”

“He cooked for you,” Taemin says.

Kibum turns on him next. “That’s him. What about you?”

Jonghyun doesn’t rescue him this time, just shoots him a smile, slow and secret. Kibum’s birthday. Frosting everywhere, Jonghyun leaning in as if to kiss him, his arms around him, his lap, his dick, Jonghyun Jonghyun Jonghyun. “Jonghyunnie hyung forgot you too.”

So there. Except Jonghyun just smiles some more, pressing his shoulder into Taemin’s. “He got me yesterday. Shoes.”

“Don’t worry, I know what I want,” Kibum says, smiling too. “Thirty minutes shopping, and then hyung will take you out.”

“To eat,” Jonghyun adds in a rush. Kibum gives him a look that says he’s too dumb to live, but Jonghyun’s back on Taemin. His eyes never left his face, and now he shifts his weight, hand sliding across the floor, fingertips meeting Taemin’s. “Do you want me to come along, Taeminnie? I have the rest of the afternoon off. No meetings.”

“It’s my treat,” Kibum says before Taemin can even think yes. “I’m not paying for you.”

“I’ll pay for you both,” Jonghyun counters.

“Go home and sleep, Taeminnie’s mine today. Seriously. You look like you need it.”

Jonghyun shoots Taemin a look, like he’s just supposed to say _I’m Jonghyun hyung’s_ or something. Except Taemin isn’t, any more than Jonghyun is his. Maybe when he goes off with Kibum Hong Dahae will call. She did three times during practice last Friday. Jonghyun left his phone in his locker when they hit break this time, so who knows how many times he’s missed her. Four? Five?

Taemin moves his hand away and grabs his water bottle instead.

“I’m starting recording tomorrow,” Jonghyun tells him.

Oh. Good. That’s good. Better. “Did it work, did they take ‘Beautiful Tonight?’”

“Mm.” Jonghyun just looks at him some more, staring into his eyes. Holding them. Maybe Taemin’s ears are going hot, maybe his mouth tastes like sawdust. “Hyung won’t have any time to see you.”

“Aigoo, you see him like every other day.” Minho leans over to pat Jonghyun on the knee. “What’s the first song?”

“‘Deja-boo.’ I passed the demo off to Jang PD as soon as SM okayed it, so I don’t know how long it’ll take us to get it down. Then…probably ‘Crazy?’ The demo I showed you, remember, Taeminnie? Dsign music.”

Taemin remembers Jonghyun from that day at lunch, pale and puffy-eyed and still so good-looking Taemin kept forgetting how to talk. “The one SM liked or the one you did?”

“It’s growing on me,” Jonghyun tells him, “I made it mine.” His eyes narrow, and that’s all the warning Taemin gets before Jonghyun presses his thumb to Taemin’s cheek, warm and firm. Eyelash. Oh. “The other one might take a while, I asked Wheesung hyung to write the lyrics for me. And you liked it, too.”

“I liked them both.” Taemin did, he’s not lying. Jonghyun doesn’t act like he must be, the way he did last time. Just nods. Taemin wants a smile. “‘Crazy?’”

“Mm.”

“Is it about yourself? Sounds like it,” Kibum says, because he exists, because Taemin and Jonghyun aren’t the only two people in the world.

“I wrote it, so I guess so~” Jonghyun sits through Minho’s laughter, staring at his feet, smile twisting, fading. “No, it’s about two people. I started on the lyrics last winter but I forgot them until last week. I’ve changed since then so they had to change, too.”

“So Hong Dahae-ssi and...” Kibum frowns. “Who did you even date before her? Was it that dancer noona with the pierced nose? No, that weird girl who collected spoons.”

Minho sets him straight because he can’t not. “He met Hong Dahae last winter.” And then he shuts up so fast Taemin feels like he’s walked into a wall. The second his body starts working again he’s on his feet, ears burning, breath shortening, no time to check what that did to Jonghyun’s face, because he can feel what it’s doing to his own.

“What’s taking Jinki hyung so long?”

Did his voice come out weird? Is he making things weird? Is it too late to sink back down and not sit so close to Jonghyun, keep his eyes off Jonghyun and ignore Jonghyun’s on him? Keep everything inside him in. Laugh at things that aren’t funny. Smile at nothing. Wait for the music to start again.

Just another day in their lives.

 

“Thanks for lunch, Taemin-ah~” Kibum sings out once the waitress has left them to their table. Taemin throws him a look just so he’ll snort like that, but then all he says is, “I’m kidding, hyung will get it. I said I would.”

“I can pay,” Taemin retorts, even though it’s beside the point. “I got to take home everything I earned, I made a lot more than normal. My parents don’t want to move again, so I got them a car.”

Kibum snags a plate of sushi from the conveyor belt, setting it down in front of Taemin. Resting his head on his fist, he says, “What about you?” He fiddles with the bracelet on his wrist, smiling. “You didn’t spend the rest on me, did you?”

Taemin’s the one who forgot his birthday until Jinki caught him in the practice room, burning through their SM Town choreo. Taemin couldn’t tell him that he was hoping he’d run into Jonghyun instead, so when Jinki told him not to work so hard on his own, Taemin went with him to buy a cake. Kibum never showed up later, only Jonghyun did. And now here they are. Kibum knew exactly what to look for and took exactly as long as he said he would finding it, leaving time for a long lunch before he heads off to rehearsals for his musical. Taemin has as many plates as he can eat until…nothing. Billiards? More practice?

“I don’t have anything I want right now.”

Nothing Taemin could buy, at least. As soon as Taemin stuffs his face with sushi there’re a two new plates waiting, along with the face Kibum makes when Taemin goes for the one he wanted. “This one’s mine. You like mackerel better, eat that.” Whatever. Taemin’s fine with either. Kibum shoots him a smile, mouth stuffed with rice. “Must be nice, living without greed~”

_It must be nice, just saying it if you want something._

But there’s no point saying that out loud, so instead Taemin goes for another plate, then another, then—Kibum blocks him, that look on his face that says he’s absolutely not laughing. Taemin has to fix that. “Where’s the fatty tuna~? I haven’t seen any yet.”

“Yah, just take this back.”

Kibum makes a big show of unclasping his bracelet, but that’s just so Taemin will tell him, “Too late.” He’s wearing Taemin’s wallet on his wrist. Taemin’s heart, too.

“Whatever,” Kibum says. “I’ll pick for you, since all you see is money. I’ve been here before, I know what’s good.” Taemin doesn’t need him to clarify, “With Woohyunnie.”

“Did you take him or did he take you?”

“We split it. He got dinner and I paid other ways. And that’s as much as we’re talking about it. I’m not Jonghyun hyung, I’m not here to corrupt you.”

“I watch porn, hyung.”

“Aigoo,” Kibum sighs, before he shuts Taemin up with another plate of sushi. “Is it yummy?”

“Mm.” So good he doesn’t want to swallow. “How is Woohyun hyung?”

“Good,” Kibum replies, storing his mouthful in one bulging cheek. With another second’s thought, he shakes his head, swaps out his answer. “No, that’s a lie. Busy. Tired. You know how it is.”

Does he? Taemin’s never had a boyfriend, he’s never had to take care of himself, even. Unsure, he says, “That’s what you’re there for.”

Right?

“I’m his boyfriend, not his stress ball.” Taemin’s not giving him any kind of look, but still, something in his face has Kibum asking, “Was that too harsh?”

“No.”

Taemin asked the wrong person, is all. Jongin would’ve laughed at him and Minho would’ve just said, Mm. Jinki would have turned it back on him. You think so? And Jonghyun…

“Honestly, I’m working all the time, too, and now this shit with Sooyeon noona is probably gonna make me question everything all over again, and I really can’t deal with that.” Kibum sighs. “We’d have to take turns complaining to each other, but if we started we’d never stop, and then what’s the point? Dating is supposed to be fun. I don’t want to be one more thing in his life, I don’t want him to zone me out. That’s too depressing. I’d rather be single.”

Taemin doesn’t get that.

“Boring isn’t bad, hyung. It’s just boring.”

Kibum picks rice off Taemin’s cheek, pinching it. “Keep thinking that way. Stay away from bad boys.”

Where did that come from? That’s not what Taemin was saying at all. Just…all he and Jonghyun ever do together is eat, sleep, and work, and Taemin thinks he’d be okay eating, sleeping, and working with him for the rest of his life. And Taemin’s never needed to talk, but if Jonghyun does, Taemin wants it to be with him. Bad, stupid, embarrassing, annoying, whatever, Taemin wants every side of Jonghyun all to himself. Too bad he can’t take care of any of them.

But anyway. “Jonghyunnie hyung says I have bad taste.”

It comes out all weird, and when Kibum shakes his head and tells Taemin, “He’d know,” laughter bubbles up Taemin’s throat, even weirder. Hiding behind his fist doesn’t work so Taemin stuffs his mouth instead. Chokes. Kibum clicks his tongue and passes him a napkin. Once Taemin can breathe again he finds him watching with narrowed eyes. “Is there something I don’t?” What? But instead of asking, _Who’s Jonghyunnie hyung’s second person,_ Kibum says, “Minho said you liked someone. He was right for once, huh.”

“No,” Taemin lies.

“You don’t have to tell me who,” Kibum says casually, returning to his sushi. Like that’s it, he’s over it. Then, shooting Taemin a glance over his plate, “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

_It’s Jonghyun hyung, I fell in love with Jonghyun hyung. Does that count? We made out on your birthday. I want him like crazy. Is that stupid?_

“Hyung,” is as far as Taemin can get for one long moment. He doesn’t know how to say this, when they’re in the middle of a restaurant in the middle of the day. But the ahjummas over Kibum’s shoulder are playing who-has-the-worst-husband and the couple two tables down haven’t come back from the bathroom in fifteen minutes, so maybe it’s okay. Maybe it’s just Taemin who’s not. “It’s not hard on you? Dating, I mean. It’s not scary?”

Kibum doesn’t even need to think about it. “Being alone is scarier.” Is it? Again, Kibum softens looking at him, reaching over to touch his wrist. “I didn’t mean it like that, I was just talking about myself. Everyone’s different, Taeminnie. Don’t rush into anything. If you’re happy where you are—”

“I’m not. I’m just comfortable.”

And that just came out. There’s no way to put it back inside him, though, so he’s stuck with it and Kibum and his five millionth plate of sushi. Kibum starting, so carefully, “Taemin-ah.”

“I rejected him,” Taemin says to his food. “The person I like likes me. It’s the first time that’s happened. What if it’s the last?” He tries to laugh but it catches in his throat. “I like him, hyung. Really, really.” And he really needs to shut up, but, “I’m so stupid. I had all these reasons but they were just excuses.”

“Give me one and I bet there’s a guy I broke up with because of it,” Kibum tells him. “You’re not stupid. Your problem is that you think you have to get everything perfect, you think you’re doing something wrong if it’s not. Nothing ever will be, Taemin-ah. That’s life.” He catches Taemin’s eye, tries for honesty. “Like, even with Woohyunnie…our dates aren’t dates. We don’t get to hold hands or kiss or make big cheesy gestures, we don’t get to say I love you where anyone could hear. I mean, I hate all that stuff, but it should be my choice to do it or not, you know? And somehow it’s everyone else’s.”

“I don’t want any of that, if I’m with him anything is fine. But I think he would.”

“It’s not just us, Taeminnie, it’s also this job.” _It’s not just because we’re gay,_ he means. In another life, Kibum would’ve just said it, loud enough for anyone to hear. He used to say it for himself all the time, back when they were nobodies. Taemin’s never been able to. “The others have all the same problems.”

_I can’t marry anyone, Taemin-ah. Not you, not anyone._

“I know.”

“Is this guy another idol?” Five seconds of eye contact and Kibum lets him off the hook. Kind of. “Fine. Entertainer.”

“Mm.”

“And he still wants to be with you?”

Taemin needs a moment just to get it out. “Mm.”

“He still likes you? You’re sure?” Kibum presses him. “You broke his heart and he still wants you. So either he’s stupid or he’s in love.”

“Both, since it’s with me?”

There’s no way Kibum didn’t think of that one, Taemin just got there first, but now Kibum just shakes his head at him, says around his sushi, “Aigoo. You know how cute you are.” He reaches over to pet Taemin’s hair. “Sounds like he does, too.”

Taemin’s face heats all on its own. He has to turn this around before it gets bad, because then it’ll get worse and worse and worse, all those million times Jonghyun’s called him cute and Taemin heard _I like you the way you are._ So he rests his chin on his hands. Blinks his eyes. As much aegyo as he can stand without making himself sick. “Do you~?”

Kibum fights his smile the whole way. “No tuna.”

“Hyuuung~”

“Ugh, stop it.” Taemin attacks him with finger hearts. “Gross.” Blows his cheeks up. “Stop. That only works on Jonghyunnie hyung.”

“That one looks good, hyung. Quick, before it gets away.”

“Now you’re bossing me around?”

It’s not Taemin’s fault. Jonghyun’s the one who spoiled him. And he’s the reason Taemin can’t still, heart too big for his chest, cutting off his air. And he’s the reason he keeps doing these stupid things, the reason Taemin’s smiling so hard his face hurts right now.

Not an excuse. A reason.

 

In the end Kibum drops him off outside SM. Taemin shuts himself up in the practice room all day instead of checking every single one to see if Jonghyun stayed back, or crossing the street to see if Jonghyun went in to see the engineers. Then he spends his night lying in bed not sleeping and not texting Jonghyun. Jonghyun is busy. They’ll see each other this weekend, Taemin just has to hang on until then. Jonghyun doesn’t need to know that Taemin has a hangnail that’s bugging him, or that he got “Red Light” stuck in his head yesterday, or that his mom almost found his porn collecting his laundry and he still wants to know where to buy a dildo without being recognized, because it’s too hard to pretend his fingers are Jonghyun’s dick. Especially not that last thing. Finally he lets himself have his phone, just to find Blue Night. He falls asleep to the sound of Jonghyun’s voice and wakes up to the sound of rain hammering against his window.

Instead of bringing an umbrella he drives to work.

Every practice room he checks is in use but the last one, and no one feels like talking these days, anyway. The morning crawls by, minute after minute, song after song, and Taemin only gets out of his head when his stomach takes over. Every last thing inside him that’s not his brain cries out for his phone, and all it would take is one word, but Taemin passes his locker by and shoots for the vending machine down the hall. He can do this. This weekend. Two days left. Tomorrow will be better, but today is fine. His muscles are singing and he just got the last bag of honey butter chips. It looks like it stopped raining, too, so he goes up to the roof.

It’s a mistake. Is it? It’s ugly and grey and wet and the clouds haven’t gone anywhere, but all he has to do is close his eyes, and Jonghyun is there. And for one second he thinks when he opens them the sun will be shining like it did that day, but it’s Jinki’s voice he hears. His first thought is he went too far back in time. His second is smarter.

“Were all the vocal rooms taken?” he says.

Jinki coughs, spluttering into silence. He cranes around to look at Taemin, frowning. “Don’t you have today off?”

He should know Taemin better than to ask that. And maybe he does, because he doesn’t wait for an answer, just pats the concrete next to him. Taemin sinks onto his haunches instead of his butt, trying to avoid the damp. Jinki bumps his shoulder.

“What’s up?”

“I didn’t come up to talk. I just came here.”

“You don’t have any problems.” Jinki pokes a nod out of him. “Your life is perfect.” A smile this time. Jinki returns it, big and stupid. “Talk to me, Taeminnie. It doesn’t have to be now. Just…whenever.”

Taemin only remembers his honey butter chips when Jinki nudges him again. As soon as he pops the bag open Jinki steals a handful, and the only reason Taemin doesn’t consider pushing him off the roof is because he’s him.

“You’re thinking about Sooyeon noona, right?” Taemin says. “That was between her and the company, hyung. If I ever start fighting with SM, just stay out of it. Save yourself.”

“Talk to me before it gets that far, I mean,” Jinki replies, mouth full. “Honestly, I’m more worried about Jonghyunnie. None of you like doing what the company says, I don’t either, but it’s hardest on him. He takes it personally.”

That’s because it is personal for Jonghyun. Everything is. His career, his music, his words, his face, his hair, his body. He submitted lyrics for a year before SM chose his for “Juliette,” and half the songs he’s fighting to put on his album have gone through thirty different versions to get there. Every comeback he picks his own hair color, he’s asked SM a million times to let him get at tattoo, and he’ll probably ask a million more, he still hates himself for things he said years ago and he can’t watch himself on TV without shriveling up. He’d get hurt less if he were better at lying to himself. But maybe Taemin sucks at that, too.

“Taeyeon noona must be blaming herself,” Taemin says instead of any of that. “I always hated being the maknae, but honestly, it’s scarier when people listen to you. You have to take responsibility for everything.”

Jinki’s face goes a little strange. “You don’t think she should?”

He means, _If anything happened to Shinee, I would be._

There’s no part of Taemin that doesn’t want to tell him no, she shouldn’t, but what comes out of him instead is the truth. “I don’t know.” And then it’s just as close as he can get to it. “Jonginnie said Taeyeon noona and the others weren’t okay with her business, they just lied and said they were. Something like that. But Jonghyunnie hyung told me it’s because Sooyeon noona kept changing her mind on them. And SM is SM.”

“And money is money.”

Jinki flops onto his back, wet cement and all.

“And they’re not us,” Taemin adds, in case Jinki needs to hear it. “We don’t keep stuff in like that, we say everything shitty out loud. Remember, the last time we went on tour, all the dancer hyungs thought we hated each other.”

“Taemin-ah.”

“What?”

When Taemin twists around to peer into his face Jinki smiles up at him.

“Just…we didn’t pick each other. And I know you didn’t want to debut when you did, I know how hard it was for you. Still, I’m really happy it was the five of us.”

“Me, too.”

It’s so much harder to get those words out than it should be. It’s all Taemin can do to keep sitting here, eating his chips, sticking the bag in Jinki’s face until Jinki takes too many. He wipes his hand on Taemin’s knee, too, sitting up next to him again.

“You ever wonder what it would’ve been like, if you’d debuted with EXO?” Jinki says.

“I wanted to debut solo, five is bad enough.” That’s just the easy answer. Jinki laughs like he’s supposed to, but still, if he wants a real one…”I don’t think I would’ve stood out with twelve. Jonginnie is sexier than me, who would’ve noticed me next to him? And if they took my lines away in 'Mama' like they did with 'Replay'…without you and the other hyungs, I don’t know if I would’ve gotten them back.”

Jinki smiles at him. “Hyung is the best. You can just say that.”

“Shinee is,” Taemin says. “Don’t be nervous about SM Town. Don’t fuck up, either.”

“Taemin-ah~”

“You’re not, right?”

Jinki takes too long to answer, staring out into the city below. Then, finally, quietly, “I am. But letting you guys down would be scarier.”

Taemin gets that so much it hurts.

“You sounded good earlier. What I heard, at least.”

“Taeminnie.”

“Mm.”

“Nothing,” Jinki says. “Just…Do you think Sooyeonnie was unhappy?”

How is Taemin supposed to know? But he can’t just say that. “Do you?”

“I don’t know. I never really talked to her about that kind of stuff.”

Taemin’s never talked to her about anything. He’s never been as close to SNSD as the others, all they’ve ever seen when they look at him is a baby. Sooyeon used buy him food sometimes during training if she found Soojung with him, but she only ever asked Jonghyun to look after her.

“I’m scared to talk to Soojungie,” Taemin admits. “I don’t know what to say to her.”

“Just treat her normally,” Jinki says. He flashes Taemin a smile, stupid, too bright. “You suck at that kind of thing, it’s probably better you don’t even try.” Taemin laughs. Tries to. “And it’s not the end of the world, either. We probably won’t see Sooyeonnie again, but that’s because we only ever saw her at work. Soojungie will be fine.”

“The company won’t do anything to her, will they? They already gave up on f(x) last comeback.”

“They got her cast in a drama with Rain sunbaenim just last week. She didn’t tell you?”

“I don’t see her much outside of work, either.”

As trainees that meant every day. Now, almost. This is the first time that doesn’t seem like enough.

“That should make them some money,” Jinki’s saying, “and by the time it’s done filming things will have calmed down.”

He’s probably right, but that’s months away, and this is right now. “Is it true we’re not supposed to say Sooyeon noona’s name anymore?”

“Not Jessica-ssi’s, at least.” It’s not funny, but Jinki never is. Taemin gives him one last chance at the chips, then tips his head back and shakes the last of them into his mouth, salty sweet, scraping his gums. Chews and chews instead of talking. “Taemin-ah,” Jinki says, in this voice that has Taemin looking anywhere but him. “It’s okay if work is the most important thing to you, as long as it’s not the only thing. It won’t last forever, you’ll get old like the rest of us.”

“And die.”

“Taeminnie.”

“I know, hyung.” Taemin swallows hard. “What if it’s me or Shinee? Is it okay to choose myself?”

“Is this about the person you like?”

Taemin’s first instinct is to lie. He struggles past it, crumpling the bag in his hands, then stuffing it in his pocket before the wind can take it, put it somewhere it doesn’t belong. “You were supposed to forget, the way you do everything else. Instead you told everyone. I liked you better when you couldn’t talk.”

Jinki doesn’t laugh, just smiles at him. That same stupid smile from before. The one that says, _It’s okay, Taemin-ah._ It’s not, though. If Taemin said back, _I’m in love with Jonghyun hyung,_ how could it be?

“Shinee doesn’t just belong to the company or the fans, it belongs to us. It is us. And we’re just people, same as them,” Jinki says, so gently. “If Dispatch catches you, if SM doesn’t pay up, if the fans can’t understand you, all that, it’d be because there’s no understanding them.” Jinki clears his throat. Sighs. Shifts his weight. Then, to his knees, “Sorry hyung can’t protect you.”

“You don’t need to, hyung, you do enough. And don’t be sorry.” Taemin tries patting his back. “I’m the one who should be, and I’m not.”

Taemin just came up here to eat his chips and pass the time, feel the wind in his hair and maybe Jonghyun’s mouth on his. And now his throat is closing up and all he can get out is useless stuff like that.

“It’s your life, Taeminnie,” Jinki says, like it’s that simple. “Live.”

 

Taemin has the building all to himself when he finally leaves the practice room behind. The clouds he woke up to this morning have long since passed over, leaving the moon hanging in the sky and puddles at Taemin’s feet. It’s eleven thirty.

No Jonghyun.

Did he guess wrong? Maybe Jonghyun had something else to do today. Maybe recording went well. Maybe Taemin just missed him, maybe if he’d listened to his heart at eleven twenty-nine, eleven twenty-eight, twenty-seven, twenty-six, maybe if he’d just taken that crosswalk and poked his head into the control room, said hi to the engineers and watched Jonghyun through the window. Waited for him to come check how his voice sounded played back.

Maybe tomorrow.

“Taemin-ah. Taemin-ah!” _Jonghyun._ Taemin turns in time to see Jonghyun run up, out of breath. “I waved. You didn’t see me?” Smiling like crazy, not even hiding it, he reaches for Taemin, pinching Taemin’s cheeks hard enough to hurt. It hurts. This is real. “Aigoo. I almost got run over because of you.”

Taemin should take responsibility for him, then. Right?

“What about Yongdeok hyung?” he says.

The words have barely left Taemin’s mouth when there he is. As soon as he catches Taemin’s eye he slows to a walk, clutching his side. “Wait for the light next time, Jonghyun-ah. For my sake. You know what SM would do to me, if something happened to you?” 

Instead of telling Yongdeok hyung he’s an adult Jonghyun tells him he’s sorry. Yongdeok hyung never liked hearing that whenever Taemin tried to say it, and he’s not too into it now, waving it away, scratching his neck awkwardly. As they set off for the parking lot he lingers behind the two of them. Taemin’s whole day led up to this moment, and it’s almost gone already. He should say something. Do something besides try not to stare.

Taemin bumps his shoulder into Jonghyun’s. “You’re already staying this late? You just started.”

“We almost finished ‘Deja-Boo’ today, that’s why. Haesol hyung just has to send his parts in, and the mix needs work. I have an updated demo if you want to listen now, or you can wait until we’re in Japan to hear the master~.” Already? It's been one day. Jonghyun pokes his finger into Taemin’s side. “What are you even doing here?”

“Practice.” Jonghyun laughs at him, shaking his head. Taemin’s not even lying, so why is face getting hot? “SM Town’s this weekend, hyung.”

“You want to show the rest of us up, huh.”

Jonghyun’s fingers tickle up Taemin’s side, but all he’s getting out of him is, “Mm.”

“You don’t need to work to do that, just be yourself.”

Jonghyun reaches out to tuck Taemin’s hair behind his ear. Taemin catches himself leaning in to Jonghyun’s touch just in time for Yongdeok hyung to drag him back down to earth.

“Are you going home now, Taemin-ah? It’s on the way.”

“I drove here,” he says on automatic. He might as well search the parking lot, see how fast he can pick out Yongdeok hyung’s van a month after promotions, but he keeps his eyes on Jonghyun. “What about you?”

“It’s Tuesday, Taeminnie.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Blue Night.

Time’s up, anyway. There’s his car.

“Taeminnie.” On his way to the driver’s side Jonghyun grabs his wrist, holding him back, look on his face like he’s run out of words. Useful ones, at least. “Give me a ride. Yongdeok hyung said he was going to meet up with some friends for drinks, I already kept him too late.”

Yongdeok hyung goes still over Jonghyun’s shoulder, looking between them, unsure who he’s supposed to be helping. Warily, he begins, “I don’t mind—”

“I do,” Jonghyun cuts in. “Please, Taeminnie. You’re all I have. I’ll buy you ice cream, there should be enough time.”

Does he think Taemin might turn him down? Does he think he could? He can’t even pretend to think about it.

“Tteokbokki.”

“Hyung owes you,” Jonghyun assents, so quickly Taemin’s head spins. And that’s before Jonghyun breaks into that stupid, crazy smile of his, the one that says Taemin got the answer right when he was terrified Taemin would get it wrong. Before Jonghyun can tug him back to his side, Taemin’s feet move on their own, carrying him closer. Jonghyun’s too busy hesitating, watching Taemin’s face, torturing himself some more. “Unless you want to stick around? There’s a food stand near MBC that’s good.”

“I know there is, hyung. I’ve been there like a million times.”

“A million and one?” Jonghyun presses him. “No soju, I promise.”

“I guess I’ll say good night, then,” Yongdeok hyung says from a million miles off. But when Taemin tears his eyes away from Jonghyun’s face, he’s only a foot away, along with the rest of the world. All the nights he dropped Taemin off, all he ever wanted was sleep. He never asked if Jonghyun was still staying at the dorm, either, and in all those days they spent together he never dragged Taemin back to that afternoon on the roof. And now all he says to Jonghyun is, “Tomorrow morning?”

Taemin can feel Jonghyun’s eyes on his face, another question Jonghyun’s pretending he doesn’t know the answer to. “I’ll walk from the dorm, hyung, you don’t have to worry about it.”

“You know my number,” Yongdeok hyung says. “Night, Taemin-ah.”

“Night, hyung.”

“Taemin-ah,” Yongdeok hyung starts up again. Taemin’s heart flies up his throat, but it’s for nothing. “Never mind. Just take care of yourself, okay?”

And then it really is just the two of them. Taemin does everything he would if his heart weren’t fluttering around in his chest and Jonghyun weren’t staring at him. Tries to. He almost makes the wrong turn out of the parking lot, only just switches his signal as Jonghyun opens his mouth to remind him.

“I’m sorry, Taeminnie,” Jonghyun says instead.

“For lying?”

“Did I make you feel dirty?” What? When Taemin shoots him a look Jonghyun only meets his eyes because he won’t let himself look away. Sucking on the inside of his cheek, voice tight, he goes on, “You don’t have to stay with me. I’ll buy you food some other night.”

“I’d just sit around at home, anyway.”

“It’s two hours.”

It’s been all day.

“If you don’t want me to wait then I won’t.”

Right away Jonghyun’s saying, “I want you to.” He half sighs, half laughs at himself. “I’m being so selfish.” He’s being so stupid. Does he think Taemin would rather be alone again than with him? Jonghyun reads Taemin’s mind, just looking into his face. “Did you hope you’d see me? Text me next time. I didn’t even know, I would’ve taken my lunch break.”

Yeah. Taemin is stupider. His smile hits him so suddenly, so big it’s hard to shape words. “I spent it with Jinki hyung, anyway.”

Is he supposed to turn here? No, right? No, because Jonghyun would’ve told him, not asked, “He went in to practice, too?”

“Vocals. He sounds like himself again. I caught him singing on the roof, like old times.”

“What were you doing up there?” Jonghyun says, eyes dark.

Taemin keeps his on the road. “It stopped raining before then—”

“It rained today?”

“—and I wasn’t smoking,” Taemin finishes, before Jonghyun’s words hit him. How early did he come in, if he missed that?

…Did he sleep in the practice room? Taemin snatches another sideways glance at Jonghyun, finds him still looking. There are circles under his eyes but Taemin has no way of knowing if those are yesterday’s clothes. Taemin dragged Kibum away as soon as practice ended, before Jonghyun could change out of his sweats and turn his phone on.

“I know. You’d smell like it if you had. You smell like you.” Huh? Oh. Smoking. Taemin was stuck on the part where Jonghyun sucks at taking care of himself even more than Taemin sucks at taking care of him. Brushing his knuckles across Taemin’s cheek, Jonghyun says, “Don’t go up on the roof to get away, Taemin-ah. Just don’t come in.”

Why do they always end up talking about him? “I tried that for a while and then I got bored of it. I have no life.”

“Taemin-ah~” Jonghyun groans, the way he’s supposed to, but he doesn’t laugh. “The company’s too hard on you, but you’re even harder on yourself. You know how much you make hyung worry? Try thinking of me.”

“I did. I was.”

And he said that out loud, too.

“The day we kissed?”

So did Jonghyun.

Taemin flexes his fingers on the wheel. Checks his mirrors a million times, then a million more. Traffic moves faster than time, though, if Taemin remembers right the intersection up ahead is it. Maybe the next one? If he’s going to say something it has to be now.

“Just… I’ve had too much time off lately, I keep going around in circles. Sometimes it feels like we’ve come so far, you know? But then sometimes it feels like nothing’s changed since our trainee days. Since I first met you.” He’s not looking, he’s done looking, but the light turns red, and the world stops. “And everywhere I go, no matter what I do, it’s the same. Places we’ve been, things we’ve eaten, our old bus stop, the training center. The roof.” There’s this smile on Taemin’s face and he doesn’t know who put it there. “I try to think about other things, I tell myself how stupid I am, but it does no good. I’m still stupid. And all I think about is you.”

There. He put it out there. The past few weeks of his life, his heart, his everything. Jonghyun can take it or…nothing. Green light. Face burning, mouth dry, death grip on the wheel, Taemin goes back to the road. He can’t leave Jonghyun behind, though, not when his hand lands in Taemin’s hair, combing it back from his face, playing with it.

“Do you know how long it’s been, for you?” Jonghyun says softly. “I told you this before, but I really don’t. Maybe it was always going to be you, it just took me this long to realize.”

“I didn’t like you back then,” Taemin blurts out. “Not like that.”

Jonghyun pinches his cheek. “What about you, you were a baby. You were so cute~. Remember your haircut?”

Is it okay if Taemin laughs at him? Is this okay?

“Remember all yours? The blond one from ‘Ring Ding Dong.’ That was the worst.”

Jonghyun makes a face at him. “I looked cool.” Not to Taemin. Jonghyun retreats to his side of the car to sulk, snatching glances at Taemin when Taemin’s supposed to be looking at the road, until finally he comes out with it. “You never looked at me before, ever? I was in better shape back then.” It should be so easy to tell him no, but Jonghyun doesn’t let him, making a split second switch to, “No, don’t answer that. What do you like about me now?”

Somehow they’re talking about this.

“I don’t know.”

Somehow that’s his turn. Shit.

“Everything, right? That’s what you said before.” That time. Jonghyun’s eyes in the mirror, his dick pressed to Taemin’s ass, his _hand._ Taemin would have said anything. Jonghyun answers his look with a smirk, but his heart isn’t in it. “I used to look at you all the time, just to look at you. Now I can’t without wanting to touch you. I don’t know if that makes me selfish or dirty. Both, probably.”

“I like how you look at me,” Taemin says before he can even think. “And stop saying it’s dirty. You’re the one who told me there’s nothing wrong with us. That means you, too.”

“Just park anywhere, Taeminnie.” That’s not Jonghyun’s answer. His hand on Taemin’s arm is, gentle and warm. “It’s okay if you steal someone’s spot, they won’t be back until morning. And I’ll take responsibility for you.”

Taemin picks the first one he can find. He should’ve circled around and around instead, but he still has the drive back to the dorm and all the commercial breaks in between. It takes way too much out of him to cut the engine and go for his seatbelt.

Jonghyun doesn’t move. “I’m going to end things with her.”

“Good.”

That’s all Taemin has to say and, “I’m not trying to push you, Taeminnie,” comes flying out of Jonghyun. He takes a breath so deep Taemin can almost feel it, watching him. “I wanted to tell you first. If I tell you then I have to do it. Whatever she does to me, lying to you would be worse.”

Jonghyun’s said it all before. _I’m breaking up with her, I’ll break up with her. Tell me to break up with her. I love you. I don’t love her._

_She’s never had to take care of herself, she’d be alone without me._

Taemin swallows his heart. “Are you going to tell her about us?”

Jonghyun’s eyes find his. “What is there to tell, Taemin-ah?”

_I can’t. We can’t. I can’t make you happy. I can’t take responsibility for you. It makes no sense, anyway. You and me._

Taemin should say nothing and go for his door, keep walking until they’re not alone anymore, but he’s so tired of that. “I don’t know.”

“If I told her the truth,” Jonghyun begins, before he stops himself, staring into Taemin’s face. “If I told her we’re in love, she might take it out on you. If she hurt you because of me…”

“She should hate me.”

“You haven’t done anything to hurt her, Taemin-ah,” Jonghyun says, too quickly. “It’s me. I should never have gone back. I didn’t even use her to forget you, I used her so I wouldn’t have to.” His mouth curls, bitter, ironic. “I knew the whole time she didn’t love me, but maybe she knew I didn’t love her, either. I kept telling myself I was trying. I told her too. Was that a lie?”

“Hyung…”

Jonghyun’s features give, just a little. He runs his finger down Taemin’s nose, then busies himself with gathering his things. “I can get a taxi back, if you’re tired.”

Taemin leans in and kisses him on the cheek. He pulls away in time to watch Jonghyun’s smile fight its way onto his face, shy and unwilling.

“Do you want coffee? I can go pick some up.”

Jonghyun shakes his head, pulling Taemin’s hand into his lap, holding it in both of his own. Finally he asks, “Will you stay over tonight? Just to sleep.”

Taemin thought he never would. Maybe he should stop making him. Maybe tomorrow morning he’ll force himself out of bed when Jonghyun’s alarm rings again, make him eat again, and then tell him, _I’ll walk you to work._ And on the way he’ll just say, _Let’s have tonkatsu today. That place you used to take me after evals._ And when they have to say goodbye outside the restaurant, he’ll ask, _When should I pick you up?_

And then he’ll still go home and wish that he’d woken up in Jonghyun’s arms. That Jonghyun had fed him his lunch, then kissed him a million times before Taemin had to let him go back to the studio. That he could spend all afternoon daydreaming about what Jonghyun would do to him when he finally got home, that he could wait up for Jonghyun all night instead of lying in his bed alone and not sleeping. That Hong Dahae didn’t exist, that she’d never touched Jonghyun, that they’d never met. That Jonghyun were his.

Maybe he should have kissed Jonghyun on the mouth. He still could, there’s still time.

Taemin squeezes Jonghyun’s hand. “I’ll just wake my parents up if I go home now.”

Jonghyun nods, playing with Taemin’s fingers. “And tteokbokki? It’s okay if you’re not hungry.”

Would that be a date? Street stall, the ahjumma who runs it, three a.m. drunks, scent of rain, cars splashing by, and the two of them. Maybe Heeyeon too? No holding hands or kissing and no sex later, just talking and eating, staring and staring. Is that dating?

“I am, though,” Taemin lies. “I’ll be starving by then.”

 

Taemin says goodbye to Jonghyun outside SM the next morning, then lives another day in his life. And then another. And then finally the sun sets on Friday, same as always, and Jonghyun is there again, offering Taemin his shoulder as a pillow on the ride over to the airport, then his hoodie when Taemin realizes he put his in his suitcase, letting Taemin play with his phone when he can’t find his own. He buys Taemin coffee, too. All Taemin has to do is hold it on the way back to their gate and think about how much he wants to hold Jonghyun’s hand instead.

Jinki is there too. Staring out his window on the plane. Staring out his window on the way to the hotel, then again on the way to the stadium. Staring out at all the empty seats as they work their way through their set in the morning and afternoon. By nightfall they’ve been through it all a thousand times, sound checks, wardrobe checks, equipment checks, check checks, but Jinki hasn’t lost that look on his face. Taemin doesn’t know how to get it off, and makeup can’t even hide it.

“I forgot how much better looking Onew is~” Minho tries. “I got so used to seeing Jinki hyung all the time.”

“Jinki hyung’s the one who had to lose all the weight,” Jinki reminds him. He puts his head down, knotting his fingers in his hair, until the coordi noona who just spent forty minutes styling it slaps his hands away.

“What about Kai versus Jongin?” Jongin says.

He’s been hanging around in here with them since EXO’s coordis finished with him.

“Your sexy face looks stupid, so Kim Jonginnie.”

Jonghyun throws Jongin half a smile from over Taemin’s shoulder. “Taeminnie always says the same thing about mine.”

Taemin doesn’t wait for that to hit Jongin, ears burning, voice climbing, “Go back to your own dressing room. We got Jinki hyung back, we don’t need you.”

Jongin doesn’t laugh. Just sighs. Sits there. Examines his own hands. Says, “We’re down to ten now.”

“Han hyung’s injury is still that bad? He didn’t come at all?”

“He went to China when we came here,” Jongin says dully. “He’s suing, same as Yifan hyung.”

“What?”

First Sooyeon, now Han?

“Sehunnie’s been crying all day. Don’t tell anyone, he doesn’t want anyone else to know.” Taemin tries patting Jongin on the back. He doesn’t know what else to do. He never does. Jongin just shakes his head. “Do you think the company’s learned anything this year? They always treated them differently. Maybe we did, too? I don’t know.”

“How are Yixing and Zitao taking it?” Jonghyun asks gently.

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.”

“There’s nothing you could have done, Jongin-ah.” Jonghyun leans over Taemin to squeeze Jongin’s shoulder, warm and solid at Taemin’s back. “They’ll make more than any of you in China, if it helps. It’ll hurt SM for sure, considering money is the only language they speak.”

“Are you guys talking about Sooyeon noona again?” Minho says, wandering over. The next thing is probably going to be, _Talk about it later, we need to focus on doing a good job right now._

“What, you’re scared to visit with them?” Kibum chimes in. “Is that why you’re hanging around here?”

Jongin forces a laugh, but he’s saved from answering when one of EXO’s managers pokes his head in the door and threatens to drag him out by the ear. He claps Taemin on the shoulder, tells him, “See you for ‘Pretty Boy,’” and then he’s gone. The music pounds through the building as groups come and go, f(x) minus Sulli, SNSD minus Jessica, EXO minus Kris and Luhan, the half of Suju that’s not in the military, and it’s just the five of them and the forty minutes they have left. The four of them and Jinki, the way Jinki probably sees it, lying on the couch in the corner with his eyes shut tight.

Taemin thinks about sitting on them, but in the end he picks up Jinki’s legs and drops down next to him. “Aigoo, look at how much you’re sweating already.”

Jinki smiles. “Right?”

“I am too, it’s hot in here,” Jonghyun says, settling down onto the armrest next to Taemin, thigh pressed to his side, toes digging into his thigh. “Do I smell, Taemin-ah?”

Does he want Taemin to check or something? Taemin goes for his side since it’s closest, burying his nose into the fabric of Jonghyun’s shirt.

“Mm.”

Jonghyun winds his fingers into Taemin’s hair and tugs his head back, not to send electricity down Taemin’s spine but to make sure Taemin sees the face he’s making.

Thirty minutes.

“It’s fucking raining,” Kibum announces the fourth time he comes back from watching backstage.

It only has twenty minutes to stop.

“Don’t be nervous, hyung,” Minho says as Jinki gets to his feet.

Jinki sinks back down. “I can get through ‘3, 2, 1’ no problem, but if ‘Why So Serious’ doesn’t kill me ‘Everybody’ will.”

“’Everybody’s’ just lip-syncing,” Taemin reminds him. “No high notes.”

“The choreography, Taeminnie.”

Minho takes Jinki by the elbow and puts him back on his feet, telling him firmly, “You can do it.”

“Can I~?”

“You’ve done it all a million times before, and all those times made you stronger.”

“Your voice sounded really good at rehearsal,” Kibum says. “You know I wouldn’t just say that, you know me.”

“Your collar is crooked,” Taemin tries next, but before he can do anything about it, Kibum cuts in front of him.

“You’re the last person to fix it, Taemin-ah, yours is too.”

Jonghyun takes Taemin by the shoulders and turns him around to face him so he can fiddle with it. All Taemin has to do is stand there and let him do it, take advantage and stare into his face. At the line of Jonghyun’s mouth, tight and nervous, his eyes narrowed in concentration, the eyelash on his cheek. Taemin gets it with his thumb. There. Or not? Taemin combs Jonghyun’s hair back, out of his eyes. Presses his finger over the crease between Jonghyun’s brows, trying to rub it smooth. Jonghyun shoots him a little smile. But that’s it, no kiss good luck or anything crazy, because Kibum pulls them over to form a circle, hands stacked on top of each other, Jonghyun’s so big and warm under Taemin’s. They’ve done this part before too, millions and millions of times. Taemin wants to do it a million more.

“Say something, hyung,” Jonghyun prods Jinki.

When Jinki takes a deep breath Taemin feels it, too.

“Minho had it right,” is all Jinki says. “We can do this. So let’s go out there and do it.”

 

They do.

They did it, Jinki survived, he made it to the other side, and now he’s buried under five beers and counting. Jonghyun left an hour ago, around the time some Suju hyungs broke out the soju, but Kibum and Minho stuck around to watch Jinki embarrass himself. The first few times he glomps Taemin they pull him off, but by the time Jinki starts wrestling him instead they’re too drunk to do more than laugh. If Jonghyun were here he would’ve stolen Taemin away by now. Why didn’t he just ask Taemin if he wanted to come back to the hotel with him? Instead he hugged Taemin and petted his hair and told him, _Have fun. You said you hate it when hyung drinks, so I’m being good._ Maybe Taemin should’ve just said, _I hate drinking alone, too. Order me something yummy and we can eat in your room._ And then they would’ve sat there on Jonghyun’s bed watching TV and Taemin would’ve had to pretend he still knew what food was. Maybe had a heart attack if their hands brushed. And maybe if Taemin closed his eyes and leaned in Jonghyun would kiss him.

“Taemin-aaaaaaaaaah,” Jinki groans down his earhole. “Hyung can’t wake up. Gotta. Concert today. Everybody WAKE UP.”

Taemin wriggles free and climbs to his feet, leaving their table behind. There’s food here. No Jonghyun, though, just a million people, sunbaes petting his head, Seulgi bowing her way past him, Jongin catching his eye from a few feet away—Taeyeon. Taemin walks right into her. She falls to the floor with a thud and a low cry, sending a ripple of silence through the room and Taemin’s heart flying up his throat.

Baekhyun is there before Taemin can even think, reaching for her. She shakes off his first attempt to help her, swinging her arm wildly, mumbling curses, and when he takes her by the elbow and says, “Let’s go back to the hotel, noona,” she wrenches away.

“Don’t wanna.”

“Noona.”

“We broke up, did you forget?” she says loudly. “No more hotels. No more you.”

“Come on, noona,” Baekhyun says, lifting her by her armpits, “Taeyeon-ah. Up.”

“Get off me.” As soon as she’s got her feet under her again she shoves Baekhyun away, so hard he stumbles back a few steps. Her eyes widen, looking at him. “Baekhyunnie? I’m sorry. I hurt you. I’m sorry. Noona is sorry.”

“Watch her, okay? Find her a chair. I’m gonna go get their manager or someone, the other noonas are as drunk as her.”

Next second Baekhyun is gone. Taemin should be able to handle Taeyeon on his own, she’s only a hundred pounds, but then Jongin is there, taking one elbow, saying, “I’ve got you, noona. Let’s go.”

Jongin has two older sisters, he’s taken care of them probably a million of the billion times they’ve come home drunk, late night dates, later nights clubbing, shitty work nights, girls’ nights. Taemin’s never taken care of anyone. Just Jonghyun. And Heeyeon.

But still, it’s him Taeyeon turns to as soon as she’s off her feet. “Taeminnie?”

“Mm.”

“Where’s Sooyeonnie?” Before Taemin can figure out what he’s supposed to say she’s shaking her head. Then she holds it in her hands, probably trying to get the world to stop spinning. “Soojungie, I meant.”

Taemin never even looked for her, he was too busy with Jinki and the Jonghyun in his head, but right away, Jongin replies, “She didn’t come, she said she was tired.”

“Because of me.” Taeyeon tries smiling. It looks like it hurts. “I’m a tiring person. I tire myself out.”

“Baekhyun hyung went to get your manager,” Taemin tells her. “You should go back, noona.”

She smiles some more. When she can’t swallow her laughter it shatters between her teeth. “I wish I could. I don’t know how far, though. 2004? Would that be enough? 1989?”

“To the hotel, noona.”

“I’d just be alone,” she says. Then, in a voice that squeezes his heart, “Taemin-ah.”

Jongin nudges him. Taemin swallows. “Yes?”

“If you love someone, just tell them you love them. Fuck what other people think. Fuck SM. You be you.” She makes a wild grab for him. When Taemin bends closer she smushes his cheeks between her tiny hands. “You know how cute you are~? Aigoo.”

And now Taemin’s throat is closing up. Why is his body doing this to him? Beer and soju aren’t truth, they’re just alcohol. And Taeyeon’s just drunk.

He has no room to talk with his cheeks closing in. He should bite his tongue. And he does, getting the words out. “Don’t hate yourself, noona.”

She lets him go.

“Everyone else does, so why not?” she slurs. “I know, I just said. Fuck what they think. I’m the one who said it.” She sighs, slouching back in her chair. There are tears standing in her eyes when she peers up at Taemin and Jongin, and when she scrubs them away there are more. “I didn’t hate Sooyeonnie, you know. Maybe I did. I don’t know. You know the thing about her? She had no energy, she didn’t eat well, she never ran when they made us run…but if she wanted something, somehow she always went after it. I’m strong. I eat. I always ran, I’m always fucking running, I can’t fucking breathe from running. So why am I stuck in place?”

How would Taemin know? He’s the same. Is it because of his career? Is it because the fans would hate them both, because SM might throw him away if they knew he liked men? Is it because his parents would hate him if they knew he’d never get married or give them grandchildren? Is it because Shinee would be ruined if he held Jonghyun’s hand? Or is it because that day by the river, he didn’t? The day they kissed, he didn’t say goodbye to Jonghyun, just left him on the roof and went to practice. He couldn’t look Yongdeok hyung in the eye for a week. He couldn’t even look himself in the eye, washing his hands the first time he came with Jonghyun’s name on his lips.

Since the day Jonghyun first made his heart flutter, it’s kept beating. Time has kept moving. Summer has turned to autumn. The leaves will fall and Seoul will freeze over, and then in a few months the cherry blossoms will bloom. Taemin’s never gone to see them. He’s never had anyone to go with.

He wants to go.

When Baekhyun returns Taemin leaves her to him. There’s no moon, no stars, no cigarettes in his pocket, either, so Jongin doesn’t need to give him that look. Just the rain.

Taemin doesn’t know what his voice will come out like, if everything else inside him will come out with it, but he tries. “I think I’m just gonna head back.”

Jongin just nods. “Me, too.”

 

The taxi ride is over too fast and the elevator takes forever.

“You sure you don’t want to hang out?” Jongin says.

“If you want to visit Soojungie it doesn’t have to be weird, you don’t need a third wheel,” Taemin says. “It’s just Soojungie.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Jongin says. “Qian noona and the others would be there, anyway. They probably ordered pizza.” He shuffles his feet, shooting Taemin a look. “And you know how much I suck at stuff like that, anyway.”

No more than Taemin does. Should he be running away again?

The elevator dings. Taemin steps in first and punches in the number.

“I’m tired,” he lies. “Our flight leaves at seven in the morning, too.”

All Taemin has to do is stand there and wait, but he’s out of breath by the time it reaches their floor and the doors close on Jongin again. The hallway is too long. The lights are too bright. His footsteps are too loud. The room numbers count down, then up, then down again. Taemin’s third time circling back around his brain finally catches up with him, or his eyes do, because that’s Jonghyun’s door.

He’s here.

Taemin smooths his hands over his hair and straightens his clothes, but that just makes him wish he’d showered and changed first, that he knew how to dress himself, that the coordi noonas had somehow touched him up after the concert, that he hadn’t danced so hard, sweat so much, given Shinee every last thing he had. That he’d somehow saved it all for Jonghyun. Whatever. If this goes right, Taemin will end up naked and sweaty anyway, and Jonghyun will like him that way.

If it goes at all.

Taemin takes his whole life in his hands and reaches up to knock.

This part is normal. He’s visited Jonghyun’s room a million times before on tour, to eat or hang out or drag Jonghyun out of bed and get him to practice, but still, his heart is pounding out of his chest by the time the door snicks open. It doesn’t get any better when he meets Jonghyun’s eyes. Maybe time stops. Maybe Taemin’s heart does. But then Jonghyun steps aside wordlessly to let Taemin in, and somehow his body listens to him. And now it’s just the two of them.

Bed turned down, shades drawn, lamplight, everything exactly as Taemin left it in his own room. The TV is on.

“Monogatari?”

“Mm.” Jonghyun narrows his eyes at Taemin, probably reading his face. Taemin wants him to so badly it hurts, he has no idea what he looks like right now or what words even are, but then all Jonghyun says is, “What?”

Anything. “Isn’t that like porn?”

Anything but that.

“It’s anime, Taeminnie,” Jonghyun replies a little too quickly, and then it’s, “I just turned it on while I was brushing my teeth.” Is he worried he’s in trouble? Whatever. Taemin likes porn, there’s nothing wrong with porn, he just said it to say _something._ Still, Jonghyun folds like paper, telling him, “Hyung is dirty, hyung is a pervert,” pressing the remote into Taemin’s hand. “Here.”

What would Taemin want with that? Jonghyun’s touch lingers after he’s taken it away, under Taemin’s skin, in his blood. His heart.

“There’s a TV in my room.”

That’s as close as Taemin can get to saying it, but every step takes him closer to Jonghyun, Jonghyun’s eyes darkening, his breathing picking up, and then Taemin has to hide in Jonghyun’s neck, holding onto him for dear life. Jonghyun’s arms come around him, pulling him in until all Taemin can feel is him. So warm and solid against him, each breath he takes rising and falling under Taemin’s hands, tickling his ear.

“You know what this means,” Jonghyun says. Forces himself to, voice gone strange, strangled and rushed.

“Yes.”

“Do you?” Taemin holds him tighter. “Words, Taemin-ah.”

“I need you.”

“Taeminnie.”

“That we’re together,” Taemin says with difficulty.

“You’re sure.”

“Yes, hyung.”

Why does Jonghyun keep asking him? Taemin doesn’t know what comes next, just that he wants to get there so badly he can hardly breathe. And still, Jonghyun asks again. “You can take responsibility for me?” He traces Taemin’s spine with his fingers, touch so light, as though he’s afraid he could break Taemin. As though Taemin wouldn’t want him to. “I might be too much, I’m jealous and I’m selfish.”

“You’re always stuck on the bad things, too. I guess it’s okay if I only see the good, you won’t get too full of yourself.”

“I don’t know if I could let you go, if things get bad I’ll make them worse,” Jonghyun goes on heedlessly. “I don’t know if I can be there for you all the time, either. I might make you lonely.”

“Once Shinee comes back we’ll be together twenty-four seven, when would I have time? This is the first year since I was thirteen that I haven’t seen you every day.” Taemin spreads his hands out over Jonghyun’s back, feeling the warmth of his skin, Jonghyun’s shoulder blades shifting beneath his palms. “You should worry about yourself. We’ll see if I suck at dating, but I’m bad at talking and I’m bad at feelings, so probably?”

“I’m serious, Taemin-ah.”

So is Taemin. He wouldn’t have come all the way here if he weren’t.

“You keep saying you don’t know. I don’t, either. I don’t know anything.” That’s just the start, there’s so much more Taemin has to say, so much he could, if he were anyone else. If Jonghyun were. He’s worn the same cologne for five years, he just smells like himself, so why is he making Taemin so dizzy? Taemin breathes him in, pressing closer. “But I want to try, hyung. Whatever happens, I want to be with you.”

“There’s no going back,” Jonghyun tells him, because he can still talk, because Taemin isn’t doing all the same things to him, maybe. Or maybe his heart is beating as hard as Taemin’s and his nerves are on fire too and the smoke’s getting to his head and his eyes are squeezed shut so tight it hurts, and he’s scared to death he won’t get this right.

Taemin lifts his head, blind, wanting, and finds Jonghyun’s lips with his own. This is their third kiss but it still feels like the first, heart exploding, whole body tingling, on fire maybe. It feels like forever. It feels like maybe he needs to breathe. But then Jonghyun makes this tiny broken noise and falls into it, taking over, hand sliding up to hold Taemin by his neck, and Taemin forgets how, along with everything that’s not _this._ Slow, tender, soft soft lips, Jonghyun’s tongue teasing the corner of his mouth, his fingers digging into the knobs of Taemin’s spine, showering Taemin with sparks. Every noise Jonghyun drags out of him comes from deeper inside him, helpless, loud, but all Taemin can do is hold onto him. Kiss him back. Kiss him and kiss him and kiss him. When Jonghyun draws away to breathe Taemin sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, biting down, sucking on it. Jonghyun moans. Taemin feels it with his whole body, knees going weak, dick so hard it almost hurts.

“I don’t know if I can hold back, Taeminnie,” Jonghyun says, lips brushing Taemin’s with every word. He nudges Taemin’s nose with his, leans their foreheads together, hands coming up to hold his face. When Taemin opens his eyes Jonghyun stares into them. “If you want to stop we shouldn’t start.” Too late. Taemin presses in for another kiss. Jonghyun sighs into his mouth, shaky, ragged, stroking his thumb over Taemin’s cheek, holding him in place while he finds the breath to lie, “It’d be enough for me, just holding you tonight.”

“I want you inside me.”

_“Taeminnie.”_

Taemin’s own name sends a wave of heat through him. He kisses it off Jonghyun’s lips, bites them open so he can taste it in his mouth. Jonghyun touches his tongue to Taemin’s, flirting, teasing, there and gone and there again, taking Taemin to the very edge. Taemin wants Jonghyun to push him over. He wants Jonghyun’s tongue in his mouth, he wants Jonghyun’s hands on his skin, his teeth sinking into it, his dick pushing into him, he wants Jonghyun to hold him down and fuck him until he can’t walk. He wants to end up on the other side with him, lay there naked in Jonghyun’s arms and play with his hair and stare into his face. And then the backs of Taemin’s knees hit the bed and he goes down, and for one second he has Jonghyun’s dick in his face, straining in his pants, and all he wants is to take it into his mouth, fill himself up, thick and hard, heavy on his tongue. But there’s Jonghyun’s hand in hair, too, tugging his head back, his voice telling him, “Slow down.” He picks his way over Taemin’s body, knees sinking into the mattress, and before Taemin can trap him with his legs and arms, wind his fingers into his hair and _pull,_ Jonghyun’s lain himself down next to him. Nestled closer, just close enough to kiss. He follows Taemin with his eyes as Taemin draws away. “We have all night. You can have all of me, whatever you want, but slowly. Mm?” He pecks Taemin’s mouth. “Mm?” Slides his hand down Taemin’s thigh, big and sure, then back up, slowly, slowly, burning into Taemin’s skin. “For me? I want to take my time with you.”

Slowly. So slow Taemin could die, lips and teeth and tongue, Jonghyun warm and solid beneath his hands, pressing into his touch wherever Taemin puts them. On his cheek, in his hair, up his shirt, down his back…his ass. Jonghyun hyung’s butt. Would it be okay if Taemin squeezed it? He digs his fingers into Jonghyun’s flesh and Jonghyun huffs into his mouth, this hitched little laugh. Harder and Jonghyun bites him, hips jerking, dick pressing into Taemin’s hip, so hot and hard and all for him. And all Taemin has to do is slip his hand between their bodies and maybe Jonghyun would fuck it. Jonghyun takes it in his and kisses his fingers instead, dragging his lips over his skin, sucking on Taemin’s wrist. Taemin doesn’t even know what’s hotter, Jonghyun’s tongue or his eyes burning black, just that he’s going to turn to ash, melt or explode or come in his pants untouched. Unfucked.

Taemin hooks his arms about Jonghyun’s shoulders and rolls onto his back, dragging Jonghyun on top of him. Jonghyun braces himself over him, sinking between Taemin’s thighs with a groan. When Taemin opens his legs for him their hips meet and their dicks press together and this white hot feeling rips through him. Through Jonghyun, too. He’s right here with Taemin, so heavy and solid, burying his face in his neck, kissing and licking and biting. Moving against him. Taemin needs skin-on-skin. And it’s nothing new, Jonghyun naked, Taemin’s seen him ten million times, except for how badly Taemin needs it right now. He _needs._ Jonghyun’s shirt gets stuck at his armpits until Jonghyun lifts away, out of reach. For one second Taemin is so frustrated he can’t see straight, too hot, dizzy, but then it’s over Jonghyun’s head and Taemin has miles and miles of smooth firm skin. Line of his shoulders, the play of his muscles as he lowers himself over Taemin once more, abs abs abs. Jonghyun hasn’t worked out in how long and Taemin is still going to die. And then Jonghyun moves again, pressing him into the mattress, and maybe Taemin does.

“Please, hyung, please,” _fuck me already._ It’s on the tip of his tongue but his voice breaks into this moan, ragged, breathy. Taemin’s face flames. He tries squeezing his eyes shut, turning into the pillow, fighting for air. Jonghyun’s breath tickles his skin, minty and warm, and there’s his hand, stroking Taemin’s hair back, so gentle. And when Taemin can look again he’s right there.

“Let me, Taemin-ah.”

And then he’s not. The air prickles the skin of Taemin’s stomach and Jonghyun burns it, his hands, his mouth, his _tongue,_ pressing into Taemin’s navel. Jonghyun smiles up at him. “I thought so. Did it do things to you, that time?”

This summer. _Show me your abs,_ stupid raspberry, cold, cold shower. Jonghyun’s not laughing now. Taemin tangles his fingers in Jonghyun’s hair instead of telling him what he wants to hear, not sure if he wants to drag Jonghyun back up to his mouth or keep him right where he is. But it’s all he can do to hold on as Jonghyun kisses his way up his stomach, until it’s, “Arms.” The second Taemin’s world disappears lasts an eternity, and then all he can see is Jonghyun again as his teeth graze the line of Taemin’s ribs and his fingers find Taemin’s nipple, playing with it, pinching it. This shouldn’t do things, it never has for Taemin, right up until Jonghyun closes his lips around it and all of the sudden it’s too much. Jonghyun is. Suckling, worrying it, flattening his tongue to it, so hot and wet, Jonghyun’s eyes burning into his, Jonghyun’s dick pressing into Taemin’s thigh. When Taemin presses back Jonghyun makes this noise, low and bit-off, but Taemin’s collarbones are next, then his shoulders, his neck, everything but his pants. Taemin goes for Jonghyun’s instead, thank God for sweatpants, but his fingers hook in the waistband of Jonghyun’s briefs, hot smooth skin at his fingertips, and his brain short circuits.

“Off,” he thinks he says. He’s trying. “Off.”

“You’re sure.” That again. Taemin is lying here half-naked in his arms, but is he sure. Should he tell Jonghyun he loves him? He said he wanted words, but all Taemin wants is him. Jonghyun smiles at him, shy, secret. “You trust me? You know what the others say about me. You’re always saying it, too.”

That he dates around, falls in love too easily, falls into bed too quickly, that he’s a pervert, desperate, that he’s not allowed to date any of the little sisters radio hosts keep giving them. And now Taemin has to ruin the joke. “It’s because you hate it so much.” He kisses the tip of Jonghyun’s nose when Jonghyun scrunches it up, smooths the wrinkles away with his fingertip. “And don’t say it’s my first time. That’s all it is, just the first.” Jonghyun ducks in for another kiss, sweet and lingering, eyes shut tight, so it’s okay if Taemin says it out loud, loses the words in Jonghyun’s mouth. “This is all I want it to be.”

Jonghyun keeps his eyes on Taemin’s face as he finds the button of his pants. It’s so easy to help, lifting his butt, drawing his legs up. So hard to pull his underwear down next, cool air kissing his dick. Harder still to lie there and let Jonghyun see. Jonghyun’s never been with a man before. He loves Taemin, but what if…

Jonghyun takes Taemin into his hand and Taemin whites out. When his vision clears he still can’t look, the shadows on the ceiling, the hands of the clock, the murmur of the TV, _oh god oh god oh god._ His hips move on their own, fucking into Jonghyun’s fist, tighter, faster, please, just stop teasing. Somehow all those noises are coming from him, moaning, gasping, no words left but, “Jonghyunnie hyung.”

Jonghyun takes everything Taemin lets out in. Takes him in. Leans in and presses his lips to the head of Taemin’s dick. Taemin shouts, arching off the bed. Jonghyun splutters, gasping for air, ragged, choked. Did Taemin hurt him, is he hurt? Heart pounding in his ears, Taemin reaches for him. His fingertips graze Jonghyun’s cheek before Jonghyun’s hands come down, pinning Taemin’s hips to the bed as he stretches his lips around him and works his way down, slowly, slowly, so hot and wet. Taemin was so, so close to coming over his hand and now he’s going to come in his mouth if Jonghyun doesn’t stop doing that thing with his tongue. “Hyung.” Stop. Don’t. While Taemin tries to find his voice Jonghyun tries everything, sucking him, tasting him, pressing wet kisses to his dick, dragging his tongue down the underside. “I’m so close, I can’t.” Jonghyun doesn’t know what he’s doing, just what he’s doing to Taemin. _Everything._ “Fuck me.”

Jonghyun pulls off, eyes black. If he crawled up Taemin’s body Taemin could taste himself on his tongue. Instead he pushes Taemin’s thighs wide open and kisses his hole, wrenching a cry out of him, sending him white hot. Once he’s back in his body he’s too slow, too clumsy to catch Jonghyun before he’s up and out of bed, out of sight. Bathroom. Taemin’s still figuring out where his muscles have gone when the TV goes silent and Jonghyun returns to him, naked and hard, so beautiful he steals Taemin’s breath. He doesn’t even realize there’s something in Jonghyun’s hand until he’s popped it open. Jonghyun’s skin cream. The expensive stuff the coordi noonas put him on last time he broke out. Every time Jonghyun went on about his sensitive skin Kibum would roll his eyes hard enough to sprain something, and.

Lube. 

Jonghyun leans in for a kiss that starts out short and sweet and melts into slow and deep. Taemin holds Jonghyun’s face in his hands and traps Jonghyun between his thighs, keeping him right where he wants him, closer, not close enough, sucking on his tongue, swallowing his moans. Jonghyun drags his hand down over the back of Taemin’s thigh, fingertips digging into his flesh, lighting up nerves Taemin never knew he had. As he presses Taemin’s leg up over his shoulder Taemin’s muscles burn at the stretch. His whole body does, naked under Jonghyun’s eyes. He hasn’t gotten his breath back when Jonghyun finds his hole. Just the first finger, just the tip, and Taemin feels the burn with his whole body, face heating, stomach tightening, toes curling. _Hyung is inside me. Hyung is fucking me._

Jonghyun is watching his face. “Good?”

“I’ve done this part before,” Taemin manages.

“To yourself. This is me.” Two fingers. Taemin can’t bite back his moan so he bites Jonghyun’s shoulder instead, burying his face in the crook of his neck. “You don’t like it? Hmm?” Jonghyun presses in deeper, knuckles kissing the skin of his ass. He twists his fingers, crooks them, and there. _There._ “Too much?” He has Taemin clenching around him, Taemin’s teeth breaking his skin, Taemin’s dick hard and dripping against his stomach, and he’s asking? Jonghyun lifts away until Taemin’s head hits the pillow and his eyelids are his only hiding place left. “Taemin-ah.”

Not enough. More. more. more. more. Taemin slides his hand down between them until his fingertips meet Jonghyun’s dick. He takes him in his hand, so thick and hot.

“Taemin-ah,” Jonghyun groans. Taemin opens his eyes just to see the face that goes with that voice. One pull and Jonghyun tenses up all over, another and he’s fucking into his touch, another, another, another, in time with Jonghyun’s fingers inside him. Taemin strains up for a kiss, wet and messy and desperate. Suddenly Jonghyun’s hand covers Taemin’s, pulling it away, pressing it to the bed. “Okay,” he pants, lifting away, Taemin’s leg slipping down, foot hitting the mattress, “okay.”

All Taemin has to do is relax. Breathe. Hold on tight. Take Jonghyun in. Dark, dark eyes, wet open mouth, hair falling into his face, hand in Taemin’s. The head of Jonghyun’s dick pressing into him, too big. _Breathe._ Inch by inch, breath by breath, Jonghyun splits him open and fills him up, until there’s no room for anything else inside Taemin, just this moment, just _him._ When Jonghyun bottoms out he stills, lying in Taemin’s arms, staring down at him, face twisting, fighting not to move. Taemin fights not to make him, fights to relax into this feeling, fights to stay here with Jonghyun as it takes him over, clinging to his shoulders, crossing his ankles at Jonghyun’s back. Their hearts keep beating. Jonghyun rains kisses on his face, stroking his hair, murmuring, “You’re so good for me,” and, “So good, baby,” and, “I love you. I love you. I love—“

 _—you, hyung._ Taemin sticks his tongue in his mouth. Clenches down on his dick. Works his hips in tight little circles, pleasure-pain, lightning up his spine. Jonghyun moans into his mouth, helpless, desperate, loud, straight to Taemin’s dick. And then he moves. Pulls out and leaves Taemin aching, empty and wanting, before he fills him up again. And again. Again. Too slow. Too much. Taemin takes it and takes it and takes it, gives back whatever he can, meeting Jonghyun’s hips with every thrust, tightening around him as he pulls out, opening his mouth for Jonghyun’s tongue, arching into him as his stomach brushes Taemin’s dick, digging his fingernails into his back, his heels into his ass. Telling him with every breath, every heart beat, everything, “Only you.”

His voice, too, because somehow he said it out loud. Jonghyun shudders above him, hands fisted in the sheets by Taemin’s head. When Taemin tries for a kiss Jonghyun lifts away, staring into his face, shifting his weight, angling his hips. His next thrust pushes in so deep Taemin sees stars, deeper, deeper, harder, faster, bed squeaking, shaking, breathe, just breathe, until Jonghyun’s dick hits that spot inside Taemin and everything else burns away. All he knows is Jonghyun. This _feeling._

Taemin slides his hand down his own stomach but Jonghyun gets there first, lowering himself onto his elbow and taking Taemin in his hand. All that means is Taemin’s free to touch him, skin-on-skin, soft and smooth and slick with sweat, under his hands, his lips, his tongue, his teeth. Jonghyun moans in his ear, then bites it. Fucks him harder, fingers tangling in Taemin’s hair, eyes finding Taemin’s. Holding them.

“You’re so beautiful, you were made for this. I was made for you. Can you feel it, Taeminnie, are you close?” Taemin drags him down for a kiss, lips crushed together, every muscle in his body tightening up as he holds onto Jonghyun with all he has, his legs, his arms, his hands, his teeth. Each breath comes so fast, pushed out of him as Jonghyun fills him up. Each thrust feels like forever, takes him closer and closer to it. “Come for me.”

 _Hyung. Hyung. Hyung._ “Hyung!”

Taemin comes.

Blind, dizzy, never letting go, all over Jonghyun’s hand and stomach. Jonghyun’s hips jerk, fucking and fucking and fucking him, dick so deep inside Taemin he can taste it, so close behind. Taemin opens his eyes to see Jonghyun follow him over.

And then it’s everything at once. Jonghyun’s tongue where his teeth were, laving the skin of Taemin’s neck. The ache as he slips out, his weight hitting the mattress, his hand caressing Taemin’s hair, stroking his side. Taemin’s sweat drying. Jonghyun’s glow. His come dribbling down Taemin’s thigh, even when he clenches around it, even when he’d do anything to keep it inside him. Jonghyun, inside him. The wet spot Taemin has to crush Jonghyun to escape, the washcloth Jonghyun escapes Taemin to fetch, the way Jonghyun wipes Taemin’s stomach clean, so tenderly Taemin rolls onto it to hide. All five thousand kisses Jonghyun steals. Jonghyun’s arms around him. The clock over his shoulder telling Taemin they have hours and hours left, the second time, the third and the fourth. Taemin’s heart leaping ahead, to the time after that, tomorrow night, every night. Every day, too. Always. Jonghyun’s smile tells him they have right now.

Taemin smiles back.


	11. Chapter 11

As the music dies the engineer tips back in his chair and slots Jonghyun an expectant look, probably because the last fifty times they’ve been here, playback, control room, ten minutes to lunch break, Jonghyun’s ruined his entire day. I think I need another take. Don’t you think I need to blend my voice with Younha sunbaenim’s a little more? I don’t think it’s a problem with the mix, it’s a problem with me. I can get it down, just one more take. The lyrics don’t sound weird to you, right? It’s too late to change her part, but mine maybe. Blah blah blah.

“It’s good,” Jonghyun says.

Seunghwan hyung’s chair hits the floor with a thud. “You don’t want to hear it again?”

“What, you don’t think it’s good enough?”

Jonghyun’s only half fucking with him. Half really, really not. Seunghwan hyung just shakes his head, though. “It’s just, this is a first for you.”

“Younha sunbaenim did all the hard work before we even started.”

Still, ‘Love Belt’ is the first song that’s gone this well since ‘Deja-Boo’ and ‘Crazy.’ Everything else they’ve gotten stuck on, either because Jonghyun knows he could do better or because Jang PD thinks he can.

“It would’ve been nice if she could’ve come in to the studio,” Seunghwan hyung says easily, before he shoots Jonghyun another glance. “I just meant, usually you try to do my job on top of yours.”

“Sorry, hyung.”

“Don’t be. I get to leave work early for once.” What? That’s it for the day? It’s not even noon. “Unless there’s something else you want extra time on? Jang PD said he’ll be back tomorrow, his wife’s surgery went well.”

“No.”

Next thing he knows Jonghyun’s on his feet. Where did he put his shit? Did he bring a coat today?

“’Neon?’” Seunghwan hyung presses him. “Jang PD wouldn’t be unhappy if we went ahead without him.”

He hates it. Sometimes Jonghyun hates him for it. Just not today.

“You don’t need to be there for that, I’m still working out the vocals. I can figure it out in the practice room.” Ah. His phone…is in his pocket. “It’s okay if I download this, right? I want to show it to someone.”

“Now you’re asking first? There’s something off about you today.” Seunghwan hyung wags his finger at Jonghyun. “You were late this morning, too. For you, anyway.”

Usually Jonghyun beats everyone but the janitors here, but usual went on vacation when they came back from Japan two weeks ago. Each morning it gets a little harder to get out of bed. Today he had to sneak his arm out from under Taemin’s head without waking him up, then deal with his boner on his own. Cold shower. Freezing. There was no time for anything else, because the first thing was getting himself to stop staring into Taemin’s sleeping face. And now maybe he’ll get to see it again. If he hurries.

“I’m always weird,” Jonghyun says, first thing he can think of that’s safe to say out loud.

Seunghwan hyung shakes his head, thumps him on the back instead of saying goodbye, and just like that, Jonghyun is free. Somehow. Is this real life? Is he dreaming? Whatever. If he is he has to wake up, and then he’ll see Taemin again~. So what if he loses a morning’s work. So what if he finally got it right, exactly as it’s always been in his head—

“You’re done already?” Yongdeok hyung calls after him. Instead of bursting through the doors into the open air, Jonghyun waits for him to catch up. “I was in the bathroom for five minutes and the world turned upside down.” He eyes Jonghyun. “Practice room?”

They’re all acting like he’s gone crazy. Maybe he has. He has.

“Not today,” Jonghyun tells him. Yongdeok hyung doesn’t look like he believes him, so Jonghyun tries again. “Go have a nice lunch, hyung. Sleep.”

“You don’t need me to drop you off anywhere?”

“I have my car, I drove this morning. I was running late.”

“Jonghyun-ah.” If Yongdeok hyung’s hand hadn’t shot out to grab his arm, his tone would have stopped Jonghyun dead. His brain takes too long to catch up with his feet, following Yongdeok hyung when he pulls him aside, ducks around the corner. His heart doesn’t listen, either, pounding out of his chest all of the sudden as Yongdeok hyung goes on, “Do you hate me or something? Let me do my job. Let me earn my paycheck, please.”

He’s only half joking, and now Jonghyun’s only telling him half the truth. “You just finished with Taeminnie’s promotions, they didn’t even give you time off.”

“Catching up on sleep now won’t stop me from falling asleep at the wheel later. I just won’t fall asleep at the wheel.” Yongdeok hyung pauses, rubbing the back of his neck like he’s not sure how to put this next thing. “Just…if it’s your girlfriend, you don’t have to worry about me.”

They’re talking about it. Two weeks ago Jonghyun would have said anything to shut him up, rather than go back to the last time they did. _I asked him about you once, if you two were dating. What did he say? That you have a girlfriend._ But this isn’t two weeks ago, this is now, and Jonghyun only visits set when she’s too busy to see him or he’s too busy to stay. He doesn’t know if the food he brings her tastes as bitter as kissing her cheek goodbye, but she always takes it.

“It’s not her,” Jonghyun says.

“Is it Taeminnie?”

This strange halfway feeling tears through Jonghyun. _I’m a piece of shit, you think I don’t know that? As much as Taeminnie loves me I should hate myself._ Maybe that’s what he should be saying, but somehow what comes out is, “You said it was bad enough that it was you, now you’re asking?”

Maybe he should just have said have said, _Taeminnie said yes. He took me in. We’re dating. I’m his boyfriend. I told you before, we’re in love. I love him. I love him more than anything—_

“You don’t have to tell me,” Yongdeok hyung says. “Just be careful, okay? Otherwise my job gets harder.”

“We are being careful.” Jonghyun’s not just saying that, he means it, but Yongdeok hyung’s eyes linger on his face, as though he’s trying to read between the lines. “Is it obvious, can you tell from the way I look at him?”

“The way you ask that, it almost sounds like you want it to be. That’s what worries me.”

“I have no reason to hide it, only Shinee’s Jonghyun does.”

That’s a lie. Dahae.

Yongdeok hyung doesn’t even call him on it. Just sighs. “It’s your career.” Shakes his head instead of shaking Jonghyun. “I guess I know what I’m seeing. Who would even look for it?”

“Dahae saw it before I did,” Jonghyun gets out. “My girlfriend.” It was too much to keep it inside, but now the rest is coming out, and Jonghyun doesn’t know how to stop it. “We haven’t told anyone yet. We haven’t talked about it.” He swallows. Keeps his head up somehow. “I haven’t even broken up with her yet.” _She’s in the middle of filming, if I’m not there to take care of her I don’t know if she could take care of herself. Maybe she wouldn’t, just for revenge._

“Jonghyun-ah…just this once, I’m not saying this as your manager, I’m saying this as hyung. Don’t wait for better timing—there’s no such thing.” Yongdeok hyung hesitates, then reaches over to squeeze Jonghyun’s shoulder, warm and firm. “Is Taeminnie happy?”

“Mm.”

“Are you?”

This one’s harder, but Jonghyun can’t lie. “Mm.”

“Then okay.”

One more squeeze and Yongdeok hyung lets him go.

“That’s it?”

“Mm.” Yongdeok hyung half-smiles at the look on Jonghyun’s face. “He told me you’re harder to take care of than he is. You’re a lot easier to talk to, though.”

He steps past Jonghyun and hits the doors. Jonghyun needs a moment to get his body back online, but Yongdeok hyung has shorter legs than him, and anyway, every second they waste out in the cold is one less he gets to spend breathing Taemin’s air. There’s the van, right there. Where did he park again?

“See you, hyung,” but that’s not it, “Hyung.” Yongdeok hyung fumbles for his keys, half listening. That should be enough. “We never had this conversation, okay? Not until I’ve talked to him.”

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow,” Yongdeok hyung says instead of answering. “Latest I can do is seven thirty.”

“What about the earliest?” That earns Jonghyun a look he doesn’t know how to read. “Taeminnie says you’re hard to wake up.”

“That’s interesting, coming from him. Aigoo.” Yongdeok hyung does everything he can to twist his smile into a frown, but this time Jonghyun gets it and then some. Taemin is so cute he’s impossible. But then all Yongdeok hyung says is, “Coffee.”

Jonghyun can do that.

 

Taemin doesn’t answer any of the six texts Jonghyun sends him, so the drive home lasts an eternity. He won’t make it in time, Taemin will have gotten up, gone out, gone back to his parents’ to eat. Maybe he left his phone on the nightstand, maybe it died, maybe he managed to lose it in the four hours Jonghyun’s been gone. Maybe he never answers his phone because he’s Taemin. Traffic crawls. Every light turns red as he hits it. The clock is slow. What if Jonghyun’s just missed him? No. He’s probably still in bed, soft and sleepy and naked, waiting for Jonghyun to kiss him awake. Or maybe he’s in the shower, wet and naked, playing with himself. Playing Minho’s PlayStation maybe, maybe watching TV, eating all Jonghyun’s food, bored without him, shifting, squirming, trying to get comfortable, good kind of sore. Not naked. Waiting for Jonghyun to undress him. Yeah.

The lobby is even longer than all the miles he just drove, but no one gives him a second look. Thank God he brought a coat, thank God he didn’t forget it, thank God it’s long enough draped over his arm. Thank God the elevator is here already. Up, up, up, blood pounding in his ears, skin still prickling with cold, dick straining in his pants. What if Taemin’s not there? What if he is still asleep? What if, what if, what if.

_Please be up. Please be there. Please need me as badly as I need you right now. Please, Taeminnie._

Jonghyun knocks on the door before he remembers himself. Remembers their passcode. Each number twists his chest tighter, until it hums and buzzes open, and finally, finally, _finally—_

“Did you forget the passcode too? Hyuuung. You’re not allowed to make fun of me anymore.” Taemin freezes at the other end of the entryway, stupid with surprise. “Jonghyunnie hyung?”

Hair still wet from the shower, blacker than black, big old T-shirt over long bare legs. _Jonghyun’s_ big old T-shirt.

“I thought you were Jinki hyung, I found his phone in the kitchen. I guess he doesn’t need it in the vocal room?”

“Is it just you?”

“Minho hyung’s filming. I thought you were recording.”

“They let me out early, Jang PD had a family thing, his wife had kidney stones,” _who cares._ Jonghyun kicks his shoes off and leaves his coat on the floor. Of all things Taemin laughs, turning as if to run, arms squeezed in like he’s trying to make himself smaller. Trying to escape. He makes it maybe two steps, but when Jonghyun catches him up in his arms his breathing is already so short, hot and hitched in Jonghyun’s ear. Shorter when Jonghyun pushes him into the nearest wall and buries his face in his neck, scent of Taemin’s shampoo, smell of his own shirt as he yanks the collar aside, soft soft skin under his tongue, between his teeth. Taemin gasps, hands fisting in Jonghyun’s shirt, dick hardening against Jonghyun’s hip.

“I don’t know when they’ll be back. You were all gone when I woke up,” he tells Jonghyun.

“Is this what it looks like when you get the dorm to yourself?” Jonghyun says into his skin. He traces Taemin’s spine, skin so warm through his shirt. Toys with the hem. “You don’t get dressed?”

“I’m wearing underwear, hyung.”

Cute little briefs, same as always, hidden under his shirt. Tight little ass made to fill Jonghyun’s hands. He squeezes this low bit off moan out of Taemin, curling his fingers until he finds Taemin’s hole, so tiny and hot through the cotton. Taemin tangles his fingers in Jonghyun’s hair, yanking him up until their mouths meet. Rough and desperate, hot and wet and deep, so good it almost hurts, nothing stopping Jonghyun from turning Taemin in his arms and fucking him into the wall but _this._ And lube. Need lube. Yeah. Air too. Jonghyun pulls away, gasping, string of spit between their lips Taemin breaks saying, “Bed.” His body says something else, fingers digging into Jonghyun’s shoulders as Jonghyun thrusts against him, leg hooking around Jonghyun’s waist. Jonghyun slides his hands down his thighs and lifts. As his foot leaves the ground Taemin stiffens, squawks, then clings to him so tight Jonghyun can’t even find the breath to laugh at him. Muscles burning, dick throbbing, Taemin panting in his ear, warm and soft and heavy, he makes it as far as the couch. When Taemin’s feet hit the floor his knees buckle, sending him down onto the armrest. Before Jonghyun can even move Taemin’s attacked his belt buckle, eyes black. His hands falter when Jonghyun yanks his head back and crushes their lips together. Then Taemin leans into it hungrily, eyes sliding shut, moaning around Jonghyun’s tongue, sucking on it instead of Jonghyun’s dick, hot and wet, soft slick sounds. He jerks Jonghyun’s fly down, jerks his pants over his ass, and takes him in his hand, all hot and sure and asking to get fucked.

Jonghyun wants him to beg. Breaking away from Taemin’s kiss Jonghyun dies a little, pulling away from his touch a little more, but then all he has to do is spin Taemin around and shove him down over the armrest and yank his briefs down, and Taemin’s telling him, muffled in the couch cushions, ass in the air, “I can take it, I don’t need anything. We did it three times last night, I’m still—”

Jonghyun presses his thumb to Taemin’s hole, dick so hard it hurts. “You’re so tight.”

“Please."

The lube is all the way in their room and Taemin is right here, spread wide open for him and straining back into his touch. “Please. Come on, do it, please, hyung.”

Jonghyun sinks to his knees and buries his face in Taemin’s ass.

_“Hyung!”_

Jonghyun’s only tried this a few times and the last one was years ago, he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Taemin doesn’t either. “Hyung, what.” Jonghyun spreads Taemin’s cheeks, fingertips digging into Taemin’s flesh. “Hyung, don’t, you don’t have to, I’m.” Jonghyun leans in and kisses his hole. _“Ooooh.”_ Taemin’s thighs tremble and his hips jerk against Jonghyun’s hold, making Jonghyun’s blood pound, in his ears, in his dick. He gathers his spit, lapping at Taemin’s hole, keeping his tongue light, teasing, as much as Taemin can take. As much as Jonghyun can. Then a little more, flattening his tongue over it, sucking on the rim as it flutters, clenches. “Hyung, I can’t, I’m gonna. Don’t. Oh God, oh please. _Jonghyunnie hyung.”_ Jonghyun pushes his tongue inside and Taemin cries out, tensing up all over, no more words, just Jonghyun’s name. Jonghyun gives it to him, everything, anything, licking, suckling, fucking his tongue in and out, in and out, until his knees and jaw are aching and his face is overheated, and he’s harder than he’s ever been in his life. One last kiss and he draws away to find Taemin wet and glistening for him, cheeks spread wide under his hands. Jonghyun presses his teeth to Taemin’s ass, mouthful of smooth firm skin, Taemin’s gasp thundering in his veins, then climbs to his feet.

“I didn’t know what I was going to do if you weren’t here,” he says hoarsely, lining himself up. “I had all these crazy thoughts.”

“I’m here.”

Jonghyun rubs his dick along the crack of Taemin’s ass. “What if it’s Jinki hyung next? What if he does remember the passcode?”

Taemin laughs breathlessly, because somehow he can still laugh, rubbing his ass up against Jonghyun’s dick so that the head catches on the rim of his hole. He full body shivers at the feel of it, almost choking on the words, “Minho hyung will come back too, at this rate.”

“’So hurry up and fuck me?’”

Taemin spreads his legs wider, bare feet slipping on the wood floor, underwear still hooked around one ankle. “Mm. Hurry up and fuck me.”

Jonghyun puts his dick in him, one long smooth thrust until his hips smack against the skin of Taemin’s ass, Taemin so hot and tight around him it’s all Jonghyun can do not to come. Every instinct he has is telling him to _fuck,_ but this is Taemin. Fingers pressing bruises into Taemin’s hips, the best he can do is, “Good?”

Taemin nods into the couch, hair in his face, hands in fists, and then finally the breath hits his body again and he says, “I told you.”

Good.

Jonghyun pulls out and slams back in. Taemin takes it with a cry that sets Jonghyun’s blood on fire. Takes it and takes it and takes it, as hard and fast as Jonghyun can give it to him. Harder. Faster. Jonghyun’s next thrust hits his whole body, rocking him up onto his toes, sending his hands scrabbling against the cushions for purchase, greedy little hole clenching so tight around his dick. He drags his eyes away from where they’re joined, up the arch of Taemin’s spine, and then he can’t look without touching, rubbing his hands over the small of Taemin’s back, rucking his shirt up, soft smooth skin. If he pulled out he could come all over it. If Taemin would let him come anywhere but inside him, deep as he can go. Deeper.

“Taeminnie.”

Jonghyun’s hips jerk, fucking and fucking and fucking into Taemin, not yet. not yet. He slides his hand down and finds Taemin’s already wrapped around his dick, snuck beneath his body. All it takes is one touch, fingers tangling, and Taemin’s coming, loud and messy, and then Jonghyun is too, coming and coming and coming.

When his breathing slows and his vision clears the sun is still up and the earth is still turning and Taemin is telling him, “Get off, hyung. My leg is falling asleep,” and somehow this is his life.

This is real.

 

“Tell me your fantasies.”

“Fantasies?”

“Mm.”

Taemin stills against his side, craning his head back to give Jonghyun a look. They’re lying in bed naked and there’s sunlight streaming in through the window, and Jonghyun can’t even ask?

“You can watch my porn if you want,” Taemin says finally, laying his head on Jonghyun’s chest once more.

“I don’t want to watch other men.”

“As long as it’s okay if I do.” Taemin doesn’t look this time, just turns his face into Jonghyun’s skin and says, “It’s not, is it.”

“I can’t help it,” but maybe that’s just an excuse, and anyway, “I won’t take it out on you.”

Taemin’s teeth close around Jonghyun’s nipple, just barely biting down, pain-pleasure. “Just on my body.” His ear is glowing red. When Jonghyun tucks his hair behind it Taemin sneaks a glance at him. “It’s just porn. I don’t look at them in real life.”

Jonghyun slips his hand down his back, over the swell of his ass. Taemin makes this tiny noise, pressing into his touch. Just a little further and he’d find Taemin’s hole, fucked open and wet with his come. But Taemin isn’t giving him that look, the one that says he needs Jonghyun inside him or else, so he skates his fingers back up his spine, down his arm, soft, soft skin.

“You can look at girls,” Taemin tells him. “I don’t mind. There are things I can’t give you.”

Taemin gives him everything every time. Jonghyun finds Taemin’s hand, covering it with his own.

“I want you to mind. I’m yours, Taeminnie.” It’s so hard to catch Taemin’s eye, craning to look at him, but Taemin doesn’t hide from him this time, just holds onto him. “I won’t touch her again.”

“You don’t want to hurt her, though.” Taemin smiles at him, real, painful, before he lays his head back down, playing with Jonghyun’s fingers. “It’s okay, that’s just how you are. I wouldn’t like you this much if you weren’t you.”

“Tell me to hurry up.”

“You’re always telling me to tell you stuff.”

“I’m hurting you just asking, right? I’m hurting you, waiting like this.”

“I’m fine,” Taemin says, snuggling closer, squeezing him tight. “I have you, you just said. No take backs. You’re stuck with me. Only me.”

Jonghyun’s heart does this strange thing, fluttering like it’s trapped inside him. “Until you get sick of me.”

“So forever.”

“Thank you, Taemin-ah.” For existing. For listening when his parents told him SM was a big company, he should audition there. For listening when Jonghyun talked to him, letting him sit next to him on the bus, eating the food Jonghyun bought him. For debuting before he was ready. For keeping Jonghyun going. “For loving me. For waiting for me.”

Taemin laughs. “You call this waiting?” When Jonghyun braces his thumb along Taemin’s jaw Taemin leans up to meet his lips, soft and slow, tongues touching, flirting. Taemin pulls away too soon, just to give him a smile. With each peck Jonghyun presses to his lips it widens, until finally he laughs, slipping his hand into Jonghyun’s hair, tugging him back so their eyes meet. “I’m yours, too, hyung. Take good care of me.”

Taemin is an angel, a fairy, too beautiful to be real, but somehow he is. Naked and soft and warm and Jonghyun’s.

Taemin sighs into Jonghyun’s kiss, eyes sliding shut, pressing closer when Jonghyun draws away, making this tiny unhappy noise. “Who do you think about when you touch yourself?”

“Kim Jongun.” Biting his ear makes Taemin’s breathing hitch, and licking it has him saying, so easily, “Kim Jonghyun.”

“What about pictures?”

Taemin gives him a weird look. “Of me?”

“It doesn’t have to be dirty.”

All that gets him is a weirder look. Jonghyun tries kissing it off his face, but Taemin just groans, turning his face into the pillow. “Then look me up online.”

“I do already, all the time. I want the you only I get to see.”

“So nudes.”

Instead of pushing it Jonghyun settles for, “We’ll just have to spend every night together, so I won’t miss you,” shifting closer, nudging his nose against Taemin’s. “You’re prettier in person.”

Taemin laughs like he doesn’t know what else to do, shooting Jonghyun yet another look. This one says, _Hyung is impossible._

“You’re so pretty, baby. You don’t even know.” Taemin props himself up on his elbow, staring down at him. Staring and staring. “You think you do.” Taemin bites his lip. Trails his fingers down Jonghyun’s abs, feather light. “You do.”

There’s that laugh again, followed by, “I will if you do, too. Pictures.”

Jonghyun should probably be catching Taemin’s hand in his, because he needs time, there’s just no way he could be getting hard again already. He came for the second time in Taemin’s mouth twenty minutes ago, couch leather sticking to his skin, Taemin on his knees before him, moaning around his dick, face like he’s never tasted anything better, nape of his neck, hair in Jonghyun’s fist, cherry lips.

Yeah.

“Do you want pictures of me or my dick?”

Taemin plays with the sparse hairs below Jonghyun’s navel, pretending to think about it, but his ears give him away, bright red. “They’re both you. Both. What else is there?”

So many things, anything Taemin wants. Jonghyun wants everything. “Outfits?”

“You want me to dress as a girl?” Taemin says.

What?

Jonghyun’s blood rushes and his dick stirs. He doesn’t even know if Taemin knows what he’s doing to him, but Taemin’s wrinkling his nose now, winding Jonghyun’s hairs around his fingers like he’s forgotten where he’s touching him.

“Would you, for me?” Too selfish. Jonghyun reaches up to caress Taemin’s cheek, but Taemin’s blush spreads at his fingertips, and it’s all Jonghyun can do to wait until he can say normally, “It’s okay if you don’t want to. If you don’t, I don’t either.”

Taemin kisses him. Says into his mouth, all in a rush, eyes shut tight, “If it does something for you, I will. If it’s for you. Doing things to you does things to me.”

He’s doing things to Jonghyun right now. Jonghyun shifts onto his side so they’re face-to-face, and when he pushes his thigh between Taemin’s he finds him half hard. “Panties?”

Taemin makes this low bit-off noise. “Sexy ones?” he says after a heartbeat, pressing closer, face like he’s trying to understand.

Jonghyun can see it so clearly he can almost taste it. Taemin so pretty, lace and soft smooth skin, so hard for Jonghyun, so wet, soaking them with pre-come. And they’d be so tiny he could just push them aside and sink into Taemin. And maybe some days Taemin would pick them out accidentally-on purpose when he went to shower in the morning, then tease Jonghyun all day, panty line under his sweats, lace peeking out of his waistband whenever he stretched or bent over, until Jonghyun could get him home and take them off with his teeth, and.

“I’ll let you pick the color~”

Taemin just blinks at him. “Aigoo. You owe me big time. Big, big time.”

Jonghyun steals a kiss. “I’m yours.” Another one. “Whenever.” Taemin holds his face, teasing Jonghyun’s mouth open with his tongue, wet and messy. “Wherever.”

“What else?” Taemin says, lips brushing Jonghyun’s with each word.

“You keep asking me.”

Taemin smiles shyly. “I just said why.”

“I want to do whatever you want.”

“Hyung~”

“Then…tie me up.” Taemin takes that in, eyes darkening, breath quickening under Jonghyun’s hand. Jonghyun rolls over onto his back, taking Taemin with him. Then lies there and stares up into his face and tries not to die as Taemin settles on top of him, ass rubbing up against his dick. “Use me, tease me, keep me hard for you and don’t let me come until you can’t anymore. Be bad to me, as bad as you want.”

“I don’t want,” Taemin tells him. Lies to him, grinding against Jonghyun, leaning down for a kiss, slow and open-mouthed.

“I like it when you don’t do what you’re told.”

“I like it when you make me.”

“Do you?” Jonghyun tickles his sides. “Talk. Tell me everything. All your dirty thoughts.” Tickles and tickles and tickles him, no mercy, until he has Taemin flailing and gasping, weak with laughter, clinging to Jonghyun for dear life when he should be trying to escape.

“Not like that,” Taemin says into Jonghyun’s skin, once his voice comes back to him. “Be rough with me. Like before.”

He said it out loud. He said it out loud, and just like that, Jonghyun is hard as a rock.

“I could tie you up,” he says. “Hmm? Leave you here all day, waiting for me, wanting me, then come home to you and fuck you so hard you can taste my dick. Fill you up with my come.” Taemin tenses up over him, thighs squeezing his hips, fingernails digging into his chest. When Jonghyun tips him onto the mattress Taemin lands with his legs splayed, but he opens them wider for Jonghyun, taking his weight with a moan. He lets Jonghyun pin his wrists to the bed, too, fingers curled into fists, eyes black, dick pressing into Jonghyun’s stomach. “You like that, don’t you. In your mouth. Inside you.”

“Hyung.” Taemin arches against him, desperate for a kiss. Just desperate. “I need you.”

“What do you need?”

“Your dick.” Taemin squeezes his eyes shut, face red, but Jonghyun gets the rest out of him, dragging his tongue down Taemin’s neck, then biting him, harder, harder. “Your come.”

“You want it again?” Jonghyun shifts his hips, lines himself up, until Taemin’s hole kisses the head of his dick. Taemin wriggles underneath him, panting, moaning, working his hips like he’s trying to work himself onto it. Tries everything but breaking Jonghyun’s hold. “You’re still wet.”

“Please, hyung. Please. Fuck me.”

It would be so easy. One thrust and he’d be inside Taemin again. And Taemin would make that face, and maybe his breathing would tell Jonghyun if he wanted it harder, faster, when he was getting close. Jonghyun doesn’t even know if he wants words, or if he wants to know Taemin’s body better than Taemin does.

“Touch yourself.” Jonghyun releases Taemin, sitting back, smiling at his frustration. “Show me, Taeminnie. Let me see.”

Taemin needs a few breaths just to catch up, and then he nods, he’s nodding. Staring up into Jonghyun’s eyes, eyes so dark, hand sliding down his own stomach. Telling him, “You too.” Jonghyun’s whole body goes hot watching Taemin take himself into his hand. But there’s Taemin’s foot digging into his butt, trying to tip him over. “I can’t see, hyung.”

Before Jonghyun can crawl from between his legs Taemin thinks twice, wriggling back to prop himself against the headboard, tongue between his teeth. Watching as Jonghyun does what he’s told. Jonghyun’s own hand is too big and rough, Taemin’s are so pretty and small and soft.

“You think of me, too, right?” Taemin says. “You better.”

For months Jonghyun’s thought of nothing else. He never will again.

“You’re blushing." Taemin is, red ears, pink down his neck and chest, but then Jonghyun gets a little stuck on the next thing, _Don’t be shy, not with me,_ or _It’s cute, Taemin-ah. You’re so cute. You’re beautiful._ Or, “I would look at you and wonder how far down it went. I can’t even look at you without wanting to see you naked, it doesn’t matter where we are, what we’re supposed to be doing. Your legs are the worst. Your thighs.”

“Yours are so hairy.” Taemin rubs his foot up Jonghyun’s shin. Even now he’s making fun of Jonghyun’s hair. Whatever. He’s never had to wax, he doesn’t understand. But then Taemin twists his wrist and his toes curl against Jonghyun’s skin, and he drags his eyes off Jonghyun’s dick to shoot Jonghyun a smile. “Your face is worse. Your body. Just everything. It’s a problem.”

“What if I threw out all your clothes?”

Taemin half moans, half laughs, like he’s not the one making Jonghyun crazy. “I’d just steal yours.”

Jonghyun burns. “It wouldn’t be stealing. It isn’t. Today wasn’t even the first time. You do it to me on purpose, right?”

“What?”

Taemin’s smiling. He knows, there’s no way he doesn’t. Somehow he always knows.

“See what you get next time.”

“You’ll bend me over again?”

“If you beg for it again,” Jonghyun manages, but that’s enough to make Taemin’s breathing hitch, his fingers tighten around his dick, his whole body tighten up. It takes everything Jonghyun has not to grab Taemin’s ankles and drag him into his lap, onto his dick, so much tighter and hotter than his fist. “It’s so hard to hold back when people are there, you make it so hard.”

Taemin’s staring at his dick. “It.”

“Maybe I won’t next time," Jonghyun says. "Part of me wants to be the only one to ever see you like this, and part of me wants to fuck you in front of everyone. Make you mine. “

Taemin almost knocks Jonghyun’s clock to the floor going in blind for the lube, then scoots down on the mattress, hiking his leg up. Jonghyun’s eyes find Taemin’s hole, tiny and pink, slick and used, and then Taemin’s fingers do, pressing against the rim. Folded in half, teasing himself, torturing Jonghyun, somehow Taemin still has the breath to tell him, “I’d let you. I said I’m yours. I meant it.”

Jonghyun goes white hot. “Let me what?”

Taemin moans, knuckle deep inside himself. “Fuck me.”

Tiny crease in Taemin’s brow, teeth digging into his bottom lip, back arching, stomach rising and falling, breath quickening. Two fingers.

“Say my name.”

“Jonghyunnie hyung, fuck me.”

Jonghyun doesn’t know who breaks first, but next thing Taemin’s mouth is on his and his hand covers Jonghyun’s on his dick, lining it up and sitting on it, so tight and hot each heartbeat feels like Jonghyun’s last. Taemin doesn’t wait for him to catch up, rocking his hips, panting in Jonghyun’s ear, pressing in so close Jonghyun can feel each breath as he takes it.

“I wanted this all day,” Taemin confesses.

“It’s only noon, Taemin-ah. How long have you even been up?”

He doesn’t need an answer and Taemin doesn’t give him one, lips mashed against Jonghyun’s neck, fingers digging into his shoulders as he moves on him. When Jonghyun tugs him back by his hair Taemin meets his eyes, flushed, dizzy with pleasure.

“It felt like forever.”

“I wish I could stay inside you forever.”

Jonghyun slides his hands down Taemin’s back to cup his ass, guiding him, lifting him up until the cool air slaps his dick and Taemin’s left clenching around the head, desperate to be filled. He cries out on his way back down, thighs trembling, dick pressing into Jonghyun’s stomach, so hot and hard for him.

Again. So slow Jonghyun could die. Again. Taemin _moans,_ mouth wet and open on his skin. “It feels like it.”

Jonghyun noses in for a kiss, but that’s not what this is even, lips crushed together, breath mingling, harsh and ragged. “How do you want it next?” he murmurs. Taemin just wants it now. He _wants,_ fucking himself on Jonghyun’s dick, wet sounds, ass slapping against his thighs, tongue so deep in Jonghyun’s mouth, moaning into it. So hot Jonghyun can’t breathe. Jonghyun squeezes his ass, spreading his cheeks. Presses his finger to where they’re joined. “You want me to eat you out again? Slowly this time, we should have all afternoon. You could sit on my face. You can come on it, too.”

_“Hyung.”_

“Don’t be shy if you like something, Taeminnie.” Taemin’s expression twists up tighter and tighter, one heartbeat from exploding at Jonghyun or coming all over him, but Jonghyun’s next breath gets knocked out of him as his back hits the mattress, Taemin’s palms pressing into his chest, miles of soft smooth skin slick with sweat, dark eyes staring down at him. Jonghyun forgets how to talk, staring back. Almost. “You liked it.” He reaches up to comb Taemin’s hair out of his face, soft and damp, voice breaking into a moan as Taemin works his hips. “I like it when you like things. I thought about last night all morning. Fucking you. There’s this noise you make when you take me inside you. My fingers, my tongue—”

“I just want your dick right now, okay?” Taemin gets out, halfway to desperate.

“You want it, though.” Jonghyun plants his heels in the mattress, takes Taemin’s hips in his hands and puts him right where he wants him, adjusts his angle just so. Fucks up into him. “Taeminnie?”

“Yeah. Just let me, I just need this, I’m so close.”

“You want to.”

“Yes.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

 _“Yes.”_ Somehow, stuffed full of dick, Jonghyun’s hand closing around his, Taemin catches his mistake. “No.” He collapses on top of Jonghyun, just to whine in his ear, “Hyuuung.”

He used to sound like that sometimes when he was starving and Jonghyun played hard to get, sometimes when Jonghyun squeezed in front of him and locked him out of the bathroom in the morning, sometimes when Jonghyun dragged him out of bed at the crack of dawn. And now Jonghyun is balls deep inside him and Taemin is doing everything he can to take him deeper, crying out, tightening around him as he comes over Jonghyun’s hand, so good for him, so pretty, so beautiful, and Jonghyun is so in love with him his body can barely hold it. This _feeling._

“Taemin-ah.”

Jonghyun comes.

 

Jonghyun hasn’t had a cigarette since July, but none of the engineers can live more than a few hours without one, so here he is, stranded in the middle of another break he didn’t need. The air is damp with rain, and if he tips his head back and closes his eyes, he’ll see Taemin from last night, eyes squeezed shut, mouth wide open as Jonghyun sent him over one more time. He can’t go back in there with a boner. And his phone is no good. Taemin hasn’t woken up yet and Dahae never sleeps.

_why do u always come when im busy? i dont want food i want a boyfriend_

_im so tired of filming the same scenes because someone else fucks up. why do i have to take responsibility for their mistakes_

_they let me go home to sleep_

_dont come over i dont want u to see me like this. the stress is ruining my skin. the only thing saving me now is makeup_

_see?_

Jonghyun scrolls wildly past the photo of her wet and naked from the shower, stomach balling up like a fist, and lands on—

_do u know if its supposed to rain today?_

_i know itd take me 10 seconds to look it up. do u realize itd only take u 5 to reply_

_i think im getting a cold_

_send me a frowny face at least_

_pretend to care_

_my manager forgets my diet every fucking day. i dont know how he got this job but im requesting a change at this point._

_where were u yesterday? were u with someone?_

_i tried to call u. i left like 5 voicemails. u dont work 24/7. if u have time to sleep u have time to call me back_

_where are u?_

“Oppa?”

Jonghyun looks up to find Soojung standing over him.

“What are you doing here?”

She makes a face, sliding down the wall of the building to sit on her haunches next to him. “Recording an OST for my drama. Rain sunbaenim is a bigger deal, but I guess it’s not the kind of drama his fans would like.” Out of nowhere she smiles. Jonghyun doesn’t get the joke until she says, “Is Taeminnie oppa gonna watch, do you know?”

And then it’s not funny.

“That was a long time ago,” Jonghyun reminds her, even though no one had to. “And he just liked his dancing.”

She snorts. “Is that what he told you guys?”

“People grow out of these things, Soojung-ah. Taeminnie has, anyway.” Has he? Whatever. Jonghyun will just have to make sure Taemin has no time to daydream about other men. And anyway…Jonghyun nudges Soojung with his shoulder. “How’s filming going?”

“It’s going.”

“It’s boring?” Jonghyun nudges her again. “The script is stupid? You hate the PD?” Pokes her side. “You hate oppa, you don’t want to talk to me?”

“Mm,” she grunts, no mercy. When Jonghyun laughs she has to hide her smirk in her arms, folded over her knees. “What about your album?”

“It’s going.” Kind of. On good days. Today isn’t one of those. “We’re working on this song. The PD hates it.”

After weeks of skirting around it in meetings and looking through the billion alternatives on offer, Creative barely made Jonghyun fight for “Neon” in the end. All Director-nim had to say was, _This is a genre you’ve wanted to try for a long time, right? Go ahead. Give it a try._ Maybe Jonghyun should’ve known better, because the first thing Jang PD said when he heard it was, _This is your first time with neo-soul, right? I can tell,_ but he’s trying. Jang PD is, too. The arrangement is too busy, Jonghyun-ah. You’re doing too much with your voice. We need to strip this down.

“Is he rushing you?” Soojung narrows her eyes, trying to read his face. “Nitpicking you? I hate that the most. Soojung-ah, take it from the top. Soojung-ah, put more energy into it. I can’t hear you smiling, Soojung-ah. Blah blah blah.”

“Do you like the song, at least?” Jonghyun says.

“It’s an OST, oppa,” she tells him flatly, as though he’s being stupid on purpose, but then two seconds later she sighs. Takes it back. “No, it’s fine. It’s not my thing but it’s cute.”

“What’s the drama about anyway?”

“This girl tries to become an idol after her older sister dies.” Soojung says it without thinking, but once it’s out there that’s all that’s left. Before Jonghyun can find the right thing to say she’s rushing on awkwardly, “And Rain sunbaenim is kinda creepy? His character. He was into her sister and now he’s going after her.”

“Soojung-ah…”

She sighs, knotting her fingers in her hair, hiding her face in her arms again.

“If you want to ask after my sister, don’t be weird about it. Just ask,” she says, voice muffled. “It’s not like she’s dead or something.”

Jonghyun pets her head, not sure what else to do. No one did anything when Soojung needed them to. Then, keeping his voice as gentle as he can, “She’s okay, though, right?”

She lifts her head just to snort at him again. “Would you be?”

The answer is as obvious as Soojung thinks it is: No. He’d be nothing.

All that’s left is for him to admit it. “There are so many things I hate about this life, but I don’t know what I’d do with myself if I had to quit.” He scrubs his hand over her hair, tangles and static, until she glares and whines at him and slaps his hand away, so close to normal. “What about you?”

“Everything you just said, that’s me, too,” she says. “Except I hate myself for staying here.”

“Your contract has years left on it, either way. And you have to live your own life. You don’t think your sister would understand that?”

Soojung shoots him another look, like, Duh. Of course she would. Don’t you know what kind of person she is? But she doesn’t say any of that out loud. Just twists her hair around and around her finger. Bumps Jonghyun’s shoulder with hers.

“Taemin oppa and I used to sit out here and smoke sometimes. This summer feels like ten million years ago.”

“I don’t have any cigarettes,” Jonghyun says, just to be safe.

He’s not even lying, not even close, but she rolls her eyes at him all the same. “I don’t smoke. I just tried it a few times.”

“Good.”

“Taemin oppa said he was trying to quit.”

“He is.”

Jonghyun hasn’t smelled smoke on him in a month, and Taemin still hasn’t realized Jonghyun threw out all his safety cigarettes in the dorm.

Soojung nods. Hesitates. “Is Taeyeon unnie blaming herself?”

What good would it do her to know? Still…

“Mm.”

Something in his expression has hers closing off. “Good.”

“Soojung-ah—”

“Just let me be mad, oppa,” she cuts him off. Which, Soojung isn’t the kind of person to hold grudges, she’ll just end up hurting herself more, but for now…that’s something Jonghyun can do. She shakes her head, flicking her hair out of her face impatiently. “God, sometimes I just hate people. None of them have even tried to call her after what happened, did you know that? It’s like she doesn’t exist all of the sudden. And the way the company has turned her into Voldemort or something…” She sighs explosively. Then takes a deep breath. “And like, all I can do is work. I got kind of depressed after the thing with Jinri this summer, but I can’t spend my whole life lying in bed. If I went back to that now I’d probably never get up again.”

Jonghyun gets that so much it hurts. She doesn’t need to hear about him, though. “Once filming picks up you won’t have to come in, you won’t have to see anyone you don’t want to.” And speaking of which, “If you want me to go…”

Now it’s up to her to tell him if he’s being stupid or not. Which he is, apparently, because she wrinkles her nose at him and says, “You were here first.”

He shoots her a smile, the biggest, stupidest one he’s got. “Should I shut up, then?”

She smiles back faintly. “That’s impossible for you.”

“You want something to eat?”

“There’s no time.”

“Vending machines?”

“It’s not even lunchtime,” she reminds him. “Does that work on Taemin oppa?”

“Always.”

That’s a lie. Only sometimes. And sometimes Taemin just lets him think it’s worked, smiles and stuffs his face and eats all the money in Jonghyun’s wallet, because he doesn’t want to see Jonghyun unhappy. And then Jonghyun has to let him think he’s really that stupid. Except maybe now Jonghyun could hold him and kiss him and tell him he loves him. Let Taemin forget himself in his body, use him however he wants. And maybe someday Taemin will just tell him when something is wrong.

Back on planet earth, Soojung is saying, “Do you think that’s why Jonginnie keeps trying it on me? He said he’d buy me dinner tonight, too.”

Maybe. If Jonghyun has gone this long without even knowing Jongin likes girls, then it figures he’d have no idea how to ask one out.

“Do you like him?” Jonghyun asks. “Jonginnie.”

“What?” pops out of her. And then, so casually it’s painful, “Where did you get that from?”

“If you don’t, then fine.”

She struggles with herself for a minute. “Why are you acting like it’s such an easy question?”

“It’s not?”

“I mean, yes, okay, I like him,” she says, eyes widening at him like that’s besides the point, but then she grows shy, staring at her knees. “I really like him. I don’t know if I’d want to date him, but maybe?” She hesitates, eyeing Jonghyun. “Just…Do you really not know?”

“What?” Jonghyun says, mouth dry all of the sudden.

_Does Taemin oppa ever talk about Jonginnie?_

_People always talk about them like that, like it’s so funny. I just think it would get to me, if people acted like just the thought of me dating boys was crazy._

She shakes her head. “Never mind.”

“You think Taeminnie likes him, right? You don’t want to hurt him.” Jonghyun’s heart is hammering out his chest and now his skin is buzzing, and he’s being so stupid, saying any of this out loud, letting himself even start. “He doesn’t, Soojungie. You won’t.”

_Ask me how I know. Ask me, please._

She climbs to her feet instead, fingers brushing over his shoulder as she twists around to get the door.

“You just worry about your girlfriend, oppa,” she tells him. “I’m gonna go back inside.”

When the door slams shut it’s down to him and his phone again. When it buzzes he draws it out on automatic.

_its not a hard question jonghyunnie_

_where are u?_

 

“Did you get written out or something? Whenever I come around you’re never busy.”

Minho doesn’t even react, just sighs, scooting back from the edge of the porch so that he can stretch his legs out straight, kicking over the food Jonghyun bought, fire red bags of Cheetos spilling out over the floor. A passing staffer throws them a scathing look, but Jonghyun gathers everything up and stuffs it away again before Minho can even find the energy to help.

“They told me to take my lunch break but the last thing I remember eating is dinner,” Minho says. “Honestly, I don’t even know what day it is anymore.”

“It’s Wednesday.” Jonghyun only knows because Yongdeok hyung told him this morning. “What about Dahae, where is she?”

“Not here, she went with Camera Team B today. She’s filming with Jungseok sunbae.”

“Falling in love with him, huh. Have they kissed yet?”

Minho eyes shoot to his face, part surprised, part reproachful, part Jonghyun doesn’t know what, but he takes his time figuring out how he’s supposed to answer that. “You’re not watching?” he goes with in the end. “You told me you would.”

That was probably Minho’s first thought. Would it be okay if Jonghyun goes with his?

“I don’t want to see her,” he admits.

“But you came all the way here? You make no sense, hyung.”

Jonghyun doesn’t need anyone else to tell him that. He’s the one who has to live in his own head. “Is she eating?”

Minho levels him with a look, then grunts, “Mm.”

“Sleeping?”

“How would I know?” Fair enough. Minho hates himself for it, though, frowning at his knees, at the tree across the yard, at everything but Jonghyun, until finally he amends, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her nap, but she always goes back to her trailer between scenes. She has it all to herself, too.”

Dahae’s never been the type who could fall asleep in weird places. Minho wasn’t either until they debuted. Minho tried setting his bedtime earlier and earlier but they got home later and later, if at all, and in the end the only way they survived promoting “Replay” was blacking out in the van between schedules.

Jonghyun nudges Minho. “What about you?”

“I’m with four other guys and I’m the maknae, it sucks, I always get the floor. We spoil Taeminnie so much.”

At the sound of his name Jonghyun’s heart flutters, and now there’s this smile splitting his face. “He’s Taeminnie.” Did he sound weird, just now? Not weird. Lovesick. But Minho just looks at him like normal, smiling back, and Taemin’s on the other side of the city, and Jonghyun is here for a reason. “Do you know her schedule at all?”

“It changes every day, hyung. Did you get into another fight?” Minho tries reading Jonghyun’s face, then guesses, “She’s ignoring you?”

“I’ve been ignoring her.”

Minho hesitates again. He shouldn’t bother. Everything that comes into his head ends up coming out his mouth. And sure enough, “Girls don’t want Cheetos, hyung.”

“Dahae isn’t girls, she’s Dahae,” Jonghyun says. “And I thought you hated her.”

“Hyung.” Minho waits until Jonghyun meets his eyes this time, then some more. And finally, “You said there was someone else. When you were talking about ‘Crazy.’ You said you’d met two people.”

“I said I’d changed.”

“I’m not stupid.”

No, he’s not. And maybe Jonghyun is finally out of reasons to hide it from him. When Dahae kissed another man, whenever she told Jonghyun he barely counted as one—maybe he should have run out of them then. And now Jonghyun’s fucking Taemin, he’s in love with Taemin, and looking at Dahae just makes him hate himself, same as ever. He never wants to see her again.

“I came to break up with her,” Jonghyun says.

Minho has nothing to say to that, no answer for him. _Good. About time. You should never have gone out with her in the first place._ Just something. Does he think Jonghyun is full of shit? Taemin’s the one he’s told so many times, and somehow he believes in him.

“No I told you so?” Jonghyun says, when it’s that or go crazy.

“What do you think I am?” Minho flops onto his back, wood creaking under his weight. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you. And I’m sorry she’s not who you thought she was.”

“She is, Minho-yah,” Jonghyun tells him. It’s the truth. All the things she’ll never see about herself, all the things Minho and Taemin and the others saw in her, Jonghyun saw too. In the end he couldn’t love her, is all. “And it’s not her, it’s me.”

Jonghyun can barely get the words out before Minho’s saying loudly, “The way she treats you is wrong, hyung. I wish I could make you see that.”

That earns them a few more looks. They should probably shut up now, Jonghyun should probably never have opened his mouth, not here, but he did, and now Minho’s jaw is set and he’d probably rather die than let it go. That’s it. Jonghyun takes him by the elbow. Minho struggles to his feet, then lets Jonghyun lead him to the remotest corner of the garden, out of earshot.

“I cheated on her. I’m cheating on her.”

It takes so much to just to get it out into the open air, but there it is, hanging between them.

But then all Minho says is, “You being wrong doesn’t make her right,” and something like laughter scrapes up Jonghyun’s throat.

“Did you hear what I said, even? I said I’m cheating on her.”

“I heard you.” Minho takes a deep breath. Another. Another, until he can say normally, “Go find someone else to talk to, if you want someone to make you feel like shit. That’s all she’s done, all year.” He reaches for Jonghyun, patting his shoulder. “It was a bad relationship, hyung, it was never going to end well. Just end it, okay?”

 _Hyung._ Jonghyun’s never felt like less of one, staring up into Minho’s face. He should have grown taller. Done better.

“She’s ended it so many times before. Now I keep hoping she’ll get sick of me, I’m scared to do it myself. Hyung is a coward.”

“You can do it,” Minho tells him, sliding his hand down to thump his back. “Take whatever she says to you, let her be right about you this one time, and don’t look back.”

Minho is right. Even if he’s wrong, he’s right. Even if Jonghyun thinks he can’t right up until the moment, he has to do it somehow. How else could he live with himself? How else could he keep breathing Taemin’s air? How long is he going to keep him waiting?

One more day, at least.

“I have to go, Minho-yah. Make sure she gets the things I brought, okay? There’s cold medicine in there, too.”

“Next time bring me something.”

“Take a bag of Cheetos, she won’t care.”

She wouldn’t let anyone know if she did, at least.

“Are they the hot ones? I can’t eat those.”

“I never could, either,” Jonghyun says. “She loves them.”

When Jonghyun heads back towards the house Minho follows him on autopilot, hands stuffed in his pockets. As they reach the door Minho overtakes him, guiding him around crew members and sound equipment, wires everywhere. And then they’re out in the open air again, and this should be goodbye.

“Get some sleep, Minho-yah. You look like shit.”

As close to shit as Minho can look, at least. Minho cracks his biggest, most self-satisfied grin, just for Jonghyun to see.

“Hyung.”

“Yeah?”

Minho hesitates. “Is it someone I know?”

“Yeah.”

_It’s Taeminnie. I’m in love with Taeminnie, we’re in love. Even if you can’t understand him, you should be able to understand me. Just look at him. How am I supposed to help it?_

“Where did you park?” Nowhere. Yongdeok hyung did. He told Jonghyun he could give him thirty minutes and Jonghyun took…thirty-five and counting. Shit. Minho ushers him out onto the sidewalk, saying, “I’ll walk you back. I’m going crazy, all I do is sit around, I need to stretch my legs.”

Uh huh. That must be why he keeps shooting little looks at Jonghyun.

“Don’t try to guess,” Jonghyun warns him. “I won’t tell you, not yet.”

Minho laughs out loud. “It wouldn’t be that hard. You have a type.” At Jonghyun’s look he ticks off his fingers, “Older.” Wrong. “Sexy.”

“I like cute, too,” Jonghyun says, avoiding his eyes. “They’re both. You can’t describe them in one word.”

“What if you had to?” Minho presses him.

Taemin, in one word?

_Taeminnie._

That’s the only right answer, but Jonghyun can’t say that out loud, not yet. So maybe, “Weird.”

“Like crazy?” Minho bumps his shoulder with his own. “Hyuuung. Pick someone nice for once.”

“They are,” Jonghyun says, hardly able to shape the words around his smile. “They’re really nice.”

“You mean pretty, right? You don’t even know what nice means, hyung.”

“I’m the crazy one, huh.”

Jonghyun knows now.

 

The rest of the day crawls by. “Neon” goes nowhere, and by the time Jonghyun talks Yongdeok hyung into dropping him off at the dorm, that he can get himself to Blue Night and back, that Shinee’s managers have never hung around for that, it’s too late to go up and see if Taemin is even there. And when Jonghyun finally gets out and collapses into his car, for the longest time, it’s all he can do just to sit there. His phone is so heavy in his pocket, so light in his hand, and Taemin’s name is right there. And if he picks up, just like that, Jonghyun will have his voice in his ear.

“Hyung?”

Jonghyun closes his eyes, warm all over. “Mm.”

“What are you calling for?” What, he can’t call? But then Taemin goes on, “You can’t drive when you’re on the phone. Hang up.”

“I wanted to hear your voice, I couldn’t wait,” Jonghyun tells him, before Taemin can get there first. “It’s just, it’s been a long day for me. Did I wake you?”

“Mm.” Oh. That should probably make Jonghyun feel bad, not bring this stupid smile to his face, but it’s Taemin’s fault he’s so cute. And anyway, Taemin forgives him. “It’s okay, you would have anyway.” He pauses. “Is there anything you wanted to say?”

“I don’t know. What did you do today?”

“Hung out with Jonginnie.”

Oh.

“What’s hanging out?”

“Lunch. Billiards.”

“What’s lunch?”

“Crab. I thought I’d get to eat all of it, but Jonginnie’s off his diet,” Taemin tells him, so easily.

Jonghyun forgot to eat today. There’ll be something at home if he’s hungry, and maybe Taemin will sit up with him. Maybe he’ll feed Jonghyun, if Jonghyun pushes just a little. And maybe this stupid feeling will stop bubbling up.

“Their tour doesn’t start up again until next month, right?”

Or not.

“Mm.”

“Soojungie told me you like him,” Jonghyun says, as normally as he can.

“Aigoo.” For one long moment, that’s all Taemin can say. Then, like he’s not sure if this is a joke or what, “Does Jonginnie like me back?”

“I don’t know, does he?”

“He’s straight, hyung.”

“You thought I was, too.” Taemin cuts him off with that laugh of his, so stupid it’s cute. “Tell me you love me?”

“You’re being so stupid, hyung,” Taemin says, voice a little pink. His ears are probably red hot, and if he were here he’d be giving Jonghyun that look like he doesn’t know what to do with him. “I love you.”

It’s two thirty in the morning and he has to get up at six, and he’s bathing in sallow parking lot light, moon hidden behind the clouds, somehow this is the most beautiful moment in Jonghyun’s day. “Tell me you want me.”

“I want you,” Taemin says faithfully.

“Kiss.”

“Hurry up and come home, and then I’ll do whatever you want.”

“That’s that and this is this,” Jonghyun insists. “It’s okay if you don’t want to. I understand, hyung is embarrassing you.”

Taemin needs a moment just to work himself up to it, quick kissy noise right in Jonghyun’s ear, “There. You heard it, right,” and Jonghyun needs another one to shape words around his smile.

“Wait up for me.”

“You’d just wake me up again, anyway," Taemin says for the second time. "You’re so loud when you come in.”

Jonghyun has to hang up on him to get there.

“I love you, Taemin-ah,” he says. He barely gives Taemin any time before he’s pushing again. “Aren’t you going to say it back?”

“I don’t know. You didn’t, before.”

How is Taemin so cute? How is everything he does and everything he says so cute? He’s impossible.

“I love you,” Jonghyun says again. “I want you. I’m already thinking about what I’m going to do to you when I get there.”

Taemin makes this low strangled noise, before he says, all in a rush, “I love you, too,” and hangs up. And just as quickly as he came to Jonghyun, he’s gone, and it’s down to him and his phone again.

It could take Jonghyun another million years to get this right, but every moment he spends out in the cold and dark is one less moment he could spend with Taemin. At this rate Taemin really will drift off again, and when Jonghyun finally gets back to him after the day he’s had, he’ll still be alone. And Taemin is alone right now, waiting for Jonghyun.

_are you free for lunch tomorrow?_

_i need to talk to you_

 

It’s only the second time, but Yongdeok hyung says he doesn’t need directions to set, so Jonghyun’s stuck finding things to say besides telling him when to turn, because the silence is eating him alive. Maybe that’s his insides, raw and clawed up, forcing the air out of his chest and coming up his throat, screwing his spine into this terrible spiral.

“I don’t know how long I’ll take,” he says. “I don’t know how much time she has.”

“Ninety percent of my job is sitting in the car, anyway.”

When Jonghyun snatches a glance at Yongdeok hyung’s eyes are on the road. “What’s the other ten percent?”

“Knowing where you are,” Yongdeok hyung replies easily. “Which reminds me. They gave me an updated schedule. Looks like they set filming dates for your MV and booked time in a lot.”

Jonghyun’s stomach twists, which, good. That means it’s still there. “What MV? We don’t even have a title track yet.”

He does not need this right now. Taemin slept through sending him off this morning, sprawled across two thirds of Jonghyun’s bed, and in the end Jonghyun went out into this world without a kiss. And now he’s stretched so thin between SM and Dahae that Yongdeok hyung might have to scrape whatever’s left of him off his seat by the time they get there.

“Does it matter?” Yongdeok hyung’s saying. “SM films everything in a box, anyway. Just make sure your concept fits into that, and you're fine.”

Jonghyun tries laughing, but it comes out too sharp, breathless and ragged. “The way Taeminnie talks, I thought you didn’t even know what YouTube was.”

Yongdeok hyung glances at him, ghost of a smile on his face. “Knowing and caring are different things. It comes with the job. I have your whole album stuck in my head at this point.”

Okay. Jonghyun can go back to his window now. Seoul flies by, too fast. It’s noon, there should be traffic, right? Jonghyun should have a little more time. Right?

“In your opinion, do you think ‘Deja-Boo’ or ‘Crazy’ is better?” he says.

“Which one do I like better, you mean?”

Is that the same thing? It always has been for Jonghyun, but if you asked Creative…

“’Crazy,’” Yongdeok hyung says finally.

“SM does too.”

“But you don’t, huh,” Yongdeok hyung guesses.

Jonghyun’s gone around this circle so many times. He’ll go around so many more before today is over, probably. When he was younger he figured he was the problem, that he needed to change, but the longer he’s lived in this world, the less he’s understood it. And it’ll never try to understand him.

That’s not fair. He has Taemin waiting at home, Minho and Kibum and Jinki, his family. Yongdeok hyung, even. He’s listening to Jonghyun right now.

“What did you do before this?” Jonghyun asks him.

Yongdeok hyung shrugs. “Same thing, different company.”

“What did—what do you want to do?”

“My parents have a stamp shop, so I’ll get stuck with that,” Yongdeok hyung replies immediately, like that’s that. Then he thinks about it a little more, drumming his fingers on the wheel, watching traffic. “If I could sell records, though…”

“I got into this because I wanted to be a composer,” Jonghyun tells him. Yongdeok hyung doesn’t laugh at him, ask him if he’d somehow never seen an idol on TV before he went to audition, if he’s so unhappy sitting on all the money he’s made while the rest of his generation scuffles to survive. Which, okay. “And to make money,” Jonghyun adds in a rush, “but that’s all SM cares about. They don’t care about me.”

“That’s not SM, that’s this country. Capitalism.” Yongdeok hyung chews on that for a while, then goes on, “It’s why you have to take care of yourself. Start with the things you can control. If you know any choreographers who live in LA…”

“Dancing is Taeminnie’s thing, I only do it because I have to. And don’t get your hopes up, SM won’t spend that kind of money on me, not with the kind of album I’m making. They’re letting me make.” It’s the truth. Maybe it shouldn’t taste so bitter. “You mean I should focus on my performance.”

“Sure.”

Why are they even talking about this now? That’s their turn. Yongdeok hyung doesn’t need Jonghyun to tell him, so Jonghyun tries shutting up, knuckles white on the handle of his door as the van swings through traffic, _Dahae Dahae Dahae._ And now all Jonghyun has left is the time it takes to find a parking spot.

“I keep going back to live music,” Jonghyun gets out through a mouthful of ash. “They said no for recording, but for promotions maybe? But even then, the music shows don’t plug bands in.”

Yongdeok hyung half-smiles, suggests, “Maybe try arguing with SM, not yourself,” and cuts the engine. They’re here.

Time. Okay. Jonghyun can do this. Okay.

…Okay.

“Don’t go too far away for lunch, okay, hyung?” he says. “I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

He jerks his door open, before he remembers and fumbles for his seatbelt, brain fuzzing out, fingers numb.

“Jonghyun-ah,” Yongdeok hyung calls after him. Jonghyun’s nerves almost have him slamming the door in his face, but instead he leans back into the van to hear the rest of it. “You’re the one who said you haven’t picked one yet.”

What? Jonghyun can’t deal with SM right now. The ride over was one thing, but right now? He can’t think. He can’t even breathe.

_Tell me to break up with her. Tell me to hurry up._

_Whatever she does to me, lying to you would be worse._

But Yongdeok hyung. SM.

“They haven’t asked for submissions,” Jonghyun says.

That’s not good enough for Yongdeok hyung. “Do they have to ask first?”

_Tell me I can do this, Taeminnie._

No.

_I can do this. I’ll come out of that restaurant broken up with her or I’ll die in there trying. And when I come home to you, I’ll tell you._

 

Dahae lets Jonghyun pick. Kimchi stew. They eat in silence. Well. Jonghyun does. Dahae watches him instead. It was one of the only things he could cook that she would eat. Maybe it’ll taste like him for the rest of her life.

“You aren’t hungry?” Jonghyun gets out.

“Cheetos, Jonghyun-ah? Really. They feed me enough junk without your help, I’m up three pounds.” When he checks she’s wearing the face that always goes with that voice, mouth tight, eyes narrow. “You look like you’ve gained some weight, too.”

“I got fat?”

“You tell me. Did you start going to the gym again?”

She’s the first person to say something. “Mm.”

“Abs for your MV?”

For Taemin. For himself. Taemin hasn’t said anything but he looks. Jonghyun wants him to keep looking at him. Only him. Forever.

She doesn’t need to hear that. Any of it. She’s only asking because hasn’t seen him naked in a month. Jonghyun digs his spoon into his rice, but all of the sudden it’s too much to bring it to his mouth. That he can eat at all makes him a bastard. What is he doing, wasting time like this? His. Hers.

_It’s over. I know it and you know it. One of us has to say it first._

Jonghyun opens his mouth and…“We’re still in recording, we haven’t talked about concepts.”

“I know it’s not for me. I told you, I don’t care about muscles. Even if I had someone to show you off to, I’d just look ridiculous.”

“It helps with stress.”

“That’s funny, I thought that’s what sex is for.” She snorts, her smile twisting as it forms. “Should I start going with you, then?”

“Dahae.”

It’s so hard to meet her eyes, but she says so easily, picking up her spoon for the first time. “Don’t worry, I can respect your space. Somehow you learned to respect mine.”

“Dahae-yah.”

“Why is it so hard for you to just say things? You’re always so scared you’ll set me off or something, which is the thing that makes me crazy.”

“Let’s break up.”

Dahae takes a sip of broth, then another. Another. The world keeps turning. Their hearts keep beating. Seconds pass. Minutes. Jonghyun just told her he wants to break up, he finally said it out loud, and nothing happened.

“Why this time?” she says finally. She returns his gaze like nothing, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “It’s just, you do this to me every couple of months.”

What?

“That was you,” is as far as Jonghyun gets before he cuts himself off. That’s not the point, it doesn’t matter anymore, he has no right to say anything to her ever again. It barely hurts when he forces himself to fix it. “I’m not blaming you, I gave you a lot of reasons.”

Her eyes narrow. “I’ve given you a lot of reasons too, is that what you’re saying?”

“I’m saying it’s not you this time.” Somehow he got this far, he’s already said it once, he can say it a thousand times. “It’s me. Let’s break up.”

“Okay, what did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“I know I didn’t,” she snaps, before she breathes deep, setting her spoon down. Her hands are in fists on the table. “I’ve tried really hard to make this work, you know, and you haven’t made it easy for me. Every time we have a fight, no matter how stupid it is, you always hold it against me.” What is he supposed to say to that? What could he? He lost the right that night in Japan, the minute Taemin stepped into his arms. And staring down all the months he had with her, the tears, the screaming matches, all the stupid things he’s said to her, all the things she’s thrown in his face, he doesn’t even want it back. “Really, it’s surprising we’ve made it this far, considering the amount of shit you won’t let go. It’s dragging you down, right? You’re tired of me, right? It’s funny, I’m the one who told you relationships get boring. And now here we are, and I’m the only one who’s even trying.”

“I tried,” Jonghyun says. “I just, I can’t anymore.”

“It’s work, you’re stressed out, blah blah blah. You think I’m not?” she snaps. “You were supposed to be the one uncomplicated thing in my life right now. I have to go back after this, I’ll probably be filming until two a.m., so thank you.” Her mouth curls. “And don’t call me later when you feel like saying sorry, because that’s just more work for me.”

Did she not hear what he said? He’s said it twice now. A third time. Again. There’s no later. There’s no calling her. “There’s someone else.”

She freezes.

“What?”

“I’m in love with someone else.”

For one long moment, that’s all. She can hit him, she can throw her water in his face, get up and leave him here and not look back. She can call him dirty, shitty, an asshole. She can drag him back to every single time he told her he loved her, every single time she couldn’t say it back, every time she kicked him out of bed when she was done with him, every date they never had, every tear she made him cry. And he can sit here and take it.

But all she says is, “At least that explains why you won’t even kiss me anymore. I was starting to think it was me.”

“It’s not.” She has to know that.

“Is that all you can say?” She sits back in her chair, arms crossed tight over her chest. “God, what a cliché.”

Anything else would just hurt her more. It might hurt Taemin, too. “I’m sorry, Dahae-yah.”

“Don’t be,” she retorts, voice brittle. “What does she have that I don’t?”

He.

“I told you, it’s me.”

Eyes flashing, voice rising, she says over him, “And I told you, I don’t want to fucking hear it.” The ahjumma coming to refill their water freezes, then turns to the next table over. Was it a mistake to do this here? Did he embarrass her? He only thought of himself, he should have gone back to her place one last time, let her let it all out. But instead she’s stuck sitting here out in the open, face uncovered, makeup on, two seconds from being recognized, squeezing everything inside her into an awful smile. “I don’t even know what to say. It’s funny, I can’t remember any of the shit you said to me when I got drunk and another guy kissed me. I bet you can remember every single fucking thing I said, though.”

Not anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he begins again.

“Not just that one time, either. All the other times I was friends with someone who had a penis, or I ran into an ex and had dinner, or I did my job and acted like I loved my TV boyfriend.”

“I know I was jealous, I know I was hard on you, and I’m sorry.”

“But it would be okay with you if I fucked other guys now?”

Yes. If she loved them, even better. If they loved her.

“I never wanted to hurt you, but that’s all I ever did,” Jonghyun says.

She laughs, of all things. “You never loved me, either. You just wanted a girlfriend. Just _someone,”_ she says, spitting the word out like it tastes foul. “You never wanted me.”

“I’m sorry.” She doesn’t want to hear it, but he needs to say it. How else is he supposed to live with himself? But maybe he’s not. “I should have told you when I first—”

“When?” she says over him, face like thunderclouds.

“I don’t know.” _I’ve known him my whole life. Since you were sixteen, I thought you said, but whatever. You love him, right? Is that what comes next? Oh, whatever. Go. GO. Maybe he’ll let you fuck him, and you won’t need me anymore._ Jonghyun’s hand is shaking as he reaches for his water glass. When did he start shaking? “I realized in August.”

“It’s October,” she says, instead of the obvious thing. _After we fought that time, right? I was mean to you and you ran crying to someone else. Are you even a man?_ “Are you sleeping with her?”

Him. Jonghyun bites it back. _You haven’t done anything to hurt her, Taemin-ah. If she hurt you because of me…_ But he can’t lie. He won’t. “Yes.”

_“When.”_

What good would it do to tell her? “Two weeks ago.”

Two weeks ago, and he’s already lost count of how many times since. Every time with Taemin feels like the first.

“Why did you wait so long?” Dahae scoffs at the look on his face. “It only took a few dates with me. Is she a good girl or something? You wanted to make it special? I thought you told me you didn’t like virgins.”

She’s not going there. She can say anything to him, she can do anything to him, she can reach inside him and rip his insides to shreds, but she doesn’t get to touch Taemin.

“Dahae-yah,” he starts up, but that’s all he can get out for the longest time, just her name. “I understand if you hate me. Believe me, I hate myself. Hate me. Don’t forgive me. Find someone better.”

“I don’t think you get to tell me what to do. I don’t think you get to talk,” jerks out of her. She breathes deep, scrubbing her hand over her forehead, tangling her fingers in her hair. “Let’s just do this later, okay? I need to think.”

“I love them.”

“You don’t even know what that word means, Jonghyunnie,” she snaps, throwing him a look that could kill. “Our first time together, you told me you loved me. You didn’t know me. You probably didn’t even know you were lying, that’s how stupid you get.”

 _I’ve known him all my life, I know everything about him. He knows me too, he knows everything. He loves me._ “I know with them.”

“You think you do. Well.” Her lip curls. “You don’t think.”

He doesn’t need to, because it’s Taemin, because, “I know.”

“Does she love you?”

“Dahae—”

“You can’t answer that? Figures.”

His heart is hammering hard enough to crack his ribs, he can’t breathe under her eyes, he has no right, and yet the word tastes so sweet. “Yes.” And he comes out on the other side clean and whole.

Dahae takes that in. The television drones on and it’ll take a hundred years for their soup to cool, and if they stay here much longer they’ll both be late getting back to work. Her face doesn’t crumple. Her voice doesn’t break, her heart doesn’t break. And finally her silence does.

“Wow, guess I should just get out of the way, then.” She sneers at him. “Since you’re so in love.“ When she crosses her legs under the table her foot brushes his leg, and all of the sudden Jonghyun has this crazy thought that it might be the last time they touch. This might be the last time he sees her face, watches her flick her hair back like that. Hears her voice. “You know, you aren’t the first guy who’s cheated on me, but I never thought you would. I guess you’re a man after all.”

What is that supposed to mean? That’s what he’s supposed to say. It’s all he ever did.

“You’ll find the right person, Dahae-yah. It was never going to be me, we both knew that.”

Her face twists. “You’re talking about my parents, right? Funny, I don’t remember you taking me home to your mother.”

If Dahae had given him a single reason to think she wanted to meet her, he would have. But that’s useless now, everything in his head is so useless. Maybe she was right about him, maybe he never lets go. He wants to so badly. He wants to let her go, everything she ever said to him, all the things she ever made him feel. He wants to look her in the eye without feeling like this. He never wants to see her again.

“My dad’s a cheater, too,” she tells him. “I found out when I was twelve. Some woman called our house and asked for him. He still tries to hide it from me. My mom tries even harder.”

“I’m sorry,” he says stupidly.

“I didn’t tell you that so that you could feel sorry for me,” she says over him, eyes flaring. “I’m saying that’s reality. My parents stayed together because it was too embarrassing to divorce. That and money?”

“I couldn’t live like that.” It’s out of his mouth before he can stop himself. She opens hers to retort, reply, argue, yell, plead, just something, but there’s only one thing left for him to say. “You couldn’t either.”

She sits back, hands in fists so tight they’re probably going numb, angry tears standing in her eyes. Even if he tried, even back when he wanted to, she’d never let him brush them away or give her something to hang onto. He doesn’t know who or what she needs, but it was never him.

Finally she says, “I guess it’s a good thing I never bothered bragging about you to anyone.”

“I never gave you anything to brag about.”

The next thing is silence. She bends over her bowl, spoon on automatic, eyes glued to her food. _Break up with me. Go ahead. Try and get to me, see if it works. See how much I care what you do._ Jonghyun doesn’t know how to tell her that it’s not like that, but he doesn’t try, either. She’s always hated that most of all. For as long as she can stand to eat Jonghyun sits with her. It feels like forever. And then all of the sudden it’s over, and they’re out in the sunlight again, and all that’s left is goodbye.

This is the end. This is what it looks like. Somehow Jonghyun made it here.

“Jonghyun-ah,” she says. “When you’re tired of her, come see me again. I don’t know how long I’ll wait, but I’m guessing long enough.”

That again. “It’s not going to be like that.”

She ignores him, again. “Don’t delete my number. And don’t change yours, that’s childish.”

Jonghyun takes a deep breath. The air is so cold and crisp, biting his skin, exploding in his lungs. “If you find any of my things at your place, just throw them away, okay?”

Jonghyun sees it all on her face before she thinks to turn away from him, laughter scraping up her throat. “You are such a fucking child. That’s it, you think that’s goodbye? Aigoo.”

Is it? Is this really it?

“Do you want me to walk you back?” Jonghyun says.

“Do you think I would?” she snaps. “You just told me you’re cheating on me, you think I want to breathe your air right now? Call me a taxi, if you care so much.”

“Dahae…”

Goodbye. It should be so hard to say it, but somehow it feels too easy. A year of his life, a year of hers, and now she’ll walk one way, and he’ll walk the other.

“Never mind. I’ll do it. Jonghyunnie. Kim Jonghyun.”

He hasn’t even moved and she’s calling his name. “What is it?”

“When you do come back, crawl.”

“This is the last time,” he says. It’s the last time. The last time she’ll laugh at him like that, the last time it’ll hurt him to look at her. The last time he’ll hurt her, maybe. “I don’t know if it was love, but—“

“But what? The sex was good? Just stop talking. Stop trying to tie me up in a pretty bow, it makes me feel even dirtier.”

“But I never wanted it to end like this,” Jonghyun finishes. “I’m sorry I changed.”

That’s the first lie he’s told. If he had to go through hell with her to find Taemin, if he had to reach this moment just so that he would have Taemin waiting for him on the other side, Taemin’s smiles and kisses, his soft skin, the way he looks as he lies sleeping in Jonghyun’s arms, the way he can’t say I love you without turning red…

He’s not sorry.

“You haven’t, though,” Dahae is saying, “you’re the exact same. I’m sorry I thought you’d grow up.”

_I’m sorry that I’m not sorry._

“Make sure you eat. Let your manager do his job, don’t try to do everything yourself.” What else is there? “Try to sleep. You said you haven’t been.”

Dahae’s face says she’s two seconds from exploding, laughing or crying or screaming, hitting him with all the strength in her body. But the sun shines down on them and cars pass by and someone pushes between them to step into the restaurant. When their eyes meet again, she’s scrubbed her tears away.

“You’ve said everything but goodbye,” she says. “Just fucking say it.”

“Goodbye, Dahae-yah.”


	12. Chapter 12

Taemin wakes up alone. That just means he has the whole bed to stretch out and can take his time opening his eyes, because there’s nothing to see here. Just the spot where Jonghyun was, Jonghyun’s glasses on the bedside table, the clock telling him it’s only eight. His phone would just tell him the same thing. Yeah. Back to bed. Sleep.

His phone.

No. There’s no reason to text Jonghyun, no reason for Jonghyun to text him. Taemin hasn’t seen him since last night, but Jonghyun saw him an hour or two ago. He probably touched Taemin, too, pet his hair or kissed his shoulder something, and Taemin missed it.

Taemin grabs his phone and rolls over.

…Nothing.

Which is what he expected. He rubs crap out of his eyes and still nothing. Thinks long and hard about getting up, and nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

_ur voice sounded off last night. dont spend all day in the vocal room_

_u need more practice dancing anyway_

Jonghyun doesn’t need Taemin to tell him that, and his phone is probably in his locker anyway. The day he finished recording he spent all night in the practice room, then told Taemin when he came home to change in the morning that SM had decided to choreograph “Deja-Boo.” Then in his next breath, when Taemin finally realized he was squeezing him too tight and let him take it, he told Taemin, _It doesn’t mean they made it the title track, Taemin-ah, just that I get to promote with it. They’re still sitting on my submission, they said they’d get back to me by the end of next week. And they wanted to talk about the concept for “Crazy,” too._

Taemin hesitates.

_will they let u play bass?_

For “Crazy.” They gave Jonghyun a band.

_probably not right_

_its sm hyung. they dont even let us sing half the time_

Nothing.

Taemin’s just being stupid. He can go and be stupid in the shower or something. But when he throws back his covers and forces himself to sit up, his ass aches, low, dull, and just like that his body remembers, strange pleasure-pain so deep inside him, in places only Jonghyun has touched. He fucked Taemin two times last night, and if he’d been louder and woken him up this morning Taemin would have sat on his dick and never gotten up, instead of clenching around the memory, pressing his fingers to the bruises Jonghyun left him with. Even when his clothes hide them he can still feel everywhere Jonghyun put his hands, his hips and his thighs and his ass. His hole. He can still feel _Jonghyun._

Showering now would mean coming with Jonghyun’s name in his mouth and washing Jonghyun from his skin, no more lingering, so Taemin heads for the kitchen instead. And finds Minho. Hunched over the fridge, probably searching for his mom’s banchan. The last time Taemin saw Minho here he told Taemin not to eat it all, but that was weeks and weeks ago, and it would’ve been worse to let it go bad, and he fed half to Jonghyun anyway.

“What’re you doing here?” Taemin blurts out.

Minho emerges with a stack of Tupperware tucked under his chin. “I should be asking you, I’m the one who lives here.”

“I do too.”

Minho kicks the fridge closed behind him and throws Taemin half a look on his way to the table, guessing, “You made up with Jonghyunnie hyung, huh.”

“There was nothing to make up,” Taemin tells him for the millionth time, following him over and dropping into the nearest chair, but then the ache is back and he has Minho across the table and he has to say something. _Hyung said he’d fuck me until my body forgot how to work without him inside me. He did. And then we slept together, and I wanted to wake up together, and._ Taemin’s face flames. He fumbles for his chopsticks. “You know how hyung gets when he’s working, he can’t take care of himself.”

“And you can? _You?”_ Minho laughs out loud. Whatever. At the look on Taemin’s face Minho shakes his head, just barely bites back his smile. “I’m kidding, Taeminnie. Good for you. I’m busy looking after Kibummie, I don’t have time for Jonghyun hyung right now too. Which reminds me.”

Minho digs in his pocket, only to brandish two long strips of paper. 

“Tickets?” To what?

“Jinki hyung said he’s going a different night, so you’re stuck with me,” Minho says.

Oh. Duh. “Kibum hyung’s musical.”

Minho shakes his head at him again, but he lets Taemin have his when he reaches for it, then leans back in his chair and reassures Taemin, “It’s good, I went during the last run.”

Back when he was less busy and Taemin forgot every single thing on the planet that wasn’t Ace or Jonghyun. And now that he’s working twenty-four seven, somehow Minho’s found the time to go again. Taemin never even thought about it until just now.

Taemin could try sitting it out, eating enough to push this stupid feeling down, but instead he piles some of everything onto Minho’s rice. Spinach, garlic, chili pepper, eggplant, “This is the first time I’ve seen you here all week.”

“Hyung has a trailer, don’t worry,” Minho replies, flicking Taemin’s chopsticks out of the way with his own. Then, cheeks bulging, he gets out, “And they feed us so much I shouldn’t even be eating this. The same company that does KBS’s cafeteria is doing the catering for us.”

“SBS is better, you should’ve picked a drama from there.”

“Seriously, don’t worry.” Minho smiles at him, perfect except for the spinach stuck in his teeth. “My sunbaes are taking good care of me.”

Okay. Taemin can take his word for it and go back to eating. Except, “What about Hong Dahae-ssi?” comes out of his mouth.

Minho makes this weird face, like he’s trying to erase his expression as it forms. Finally, way too carefully, hiding over his rice bowl, “What about her?”

“I don’t know,” Taemin says before he can even think, and then he does, and it’s so much worse. “Is she doing okay?”

It shouldn’t be a hard question, Taemin would be fine with yes or no, but Minho needs another minute with that one. Taemin’s two seconds away from telling him to forget it when Minho loses his fight with himself and says, “Don’t tell Jonghyun hyung I told you this, okay?” and then leans forward and lowers his voice, like there’s anyone else who could hear. “He said he was going to break up with her.”

“He did break up with her,” Taemin tells him, too fast.

“He told you that?”

“Do you think he’s all talk or something?” Taemin probably sounds crazy, he probably needs to shut up, not switch to, “You don’t believe me?”

“No, I do,” Minho says right away. When Taemin picks up his chopsticks again he does too, picking at his food, sneaking Taemin little glances. “It’s just…that’s good. Good for him.” He pushes his foot into Taemin’s shin. “That kind of thing is easier said than done, Taeminnie. That’s all I meant.”

That much Taemin knows.

“But she’s okay?” he forces himself to say. She’s not. He knows that, too. How could she be?

“She’s acting normal, at least. We don’t really talk, especially not about him.”

“Okay.”

“Taemin-ah.”

Okay, he said. Taemin can stop asking. What good would it do her, if his stomach turns itself inside out.

“Taemin-ah,” Minho says again, then again, “Taemin-ah.” All it takes is Taemin meeting his eyes, and “Definitely don’t tell him I told you this,” rushes out of Minho. “But he also told me there’s someone else. You don’t know who?” Taemin’s nerves light up, a million tiny pinpricks in his skin. _It’s me._ “You’re not curious, either?” _Ask if it’s me and I’ll tell you. Don’t ask. You wouldn’t anyway._ “It’s killing me.”

Taemin swallows everything, his food, his feelings, all the words crowding up his throat. As normally as he can, he tries, “With hyung there’s always someone.”

“Yeah, I guess. He’ll probably tell us when he’s sure.”

“It’s probably not that. It’s not just him, he has to talk to the other person too,” Taemin says before he can stop himself. _Hyung is sure. I’m sure he’s sure. And I’m sure about him, too._

Minho reads none of that in his face. “You think it’s another idol?”

“Maybe?” Maybe Taemin should just change the subject, before Minho starts guessing girl group members. “Do you have today off?”

Minho shakes his head, half rising from his chair like Taemin just reminded him. Through one last spoonful of rice he says, “I just came here to change, I’m out of clothes. I have to get back.”

“When I finished with promotions I thought I’d sleep for a year,” Taemin says, snapping lids back onto the banchan and following Minho to the fridge. “I got bored after a week, though.”

And now his life is Jonghyun and Jonghyun’s album. Fifteen minute phone calls talking about work during Jonghyun’s breaks, or lunch in SM’s cafeteria staring at Jonghyun across the table, all Jonghyun’s masters downloaded onto his phone, and the things they do the nights Jonghyun’s not too tired. All night, when Taemin’s too selfish.

“Take good care of Jonghyunnie hyung,” Minho says on his way out the door. Which, he’s the one who said Taemin is bad at that. Minho grabs Taemin’s shoulder as he wedges his feet into his shoes. Squeezes it. “He’s probably hurting a lot. More because it ended badly. You know him, he feels guilty over everything.”

_He probably should this time._

Minho didn’t say it, he probably didn’t even think it.

“Worry about yourself,” Taemin blusters, first safe thing he can think of, but then he ends up meaning it, looking at the shadows under Minho’s eyes. “Hang on, hyung. I’ll walk you.” He toes into his slippers, or maybe Jinki’s, because they flap weirdly as they walk down the hallway, just too big. Minho doesn’t say anything, so Taemin does. “What day is Kibummie hyung’s thing again?”

“Saturday night,” Minho replies as they hit the elevator. “What’re you going to do today?”

“Hang out.”

“Jonginnie?”

“On tour.”

“Ah, that’s right. Looking at EXO’s schedule is the only thing that makes me happy with mine.” Minho nudges Taemin’s shoulder with his own. “Go see your parents before they come see us.”

“I thought you liked my mom. You don’t want to see her?”

Minho doesn’t laugh like he’s supposed to, just smiles. “She was always nice to me. After we moved into the dorm she always asked me to look after you, too.”

“You and all the other hyungs,” Taemin says, throat tight all of the sudden. In one long moment it passes, at least enough for him to add, “She used to ask Jonghyunnie hyung in front of me. Back when we were trainees.”

Minho nudges him again as the doors open. “Don’t lie, I’m her favorite, right?”

“I don’t know, she met Jonghyun hyung first,” Taemin says, just so Minho will make that fake outraged face.

It’s a little different from the last time Taemin saw it, though. Maybe he’s had to work on it, maybe his character has anger problems or something. Jonghyun’s still looks as stupid as it did the year they debuted, the day they found out it would be together, and Taemin told Jonghyun not to boss him around. _Is that all you can say, Taemin-ah?_ Or the year they met, when Taemin told him how old he was and Jonghyun said, _Should I just quit?_ That one day Taemin didn’t sit next to Jonghyun on the bus so Jonghyun got up and sat next to him, and said, _You’re too cool to sit next to hyung? Do I smell or something?_ Anyway. Anything but Jonghyun.

“Some of the kids in the training program liked her, did you know that? Jonginnie told me later.”

“As a woman, you mean? Taemin-ah~, don’t just say things like that when it makes no sense,” Minho says. “That’s like if you said you like Jonghyun hyung, and then I told you a lot of girls do.”

Taemin’s heart screeches to a stop. The trees sigh and the sun takes peeks at them from behind the clouds, and somehow Taemin’s legs are carrying the rest of him across the parking lot. His voice included. “Because he’s a man?”

“Not to you, to you he’s just hyung. You know what I mean.” Minho pinches Taemin’s cheek. “And there’s nothing weird about you liking men, you should know that too.”

“But there’d be something weird about him liking me?”

“Taemin-ah~,” Minho groans, “I haven’t slept in like a week, stop messing with my head.”

“Get a taxi, then. Driving might involve thinking.” The words don’t burn or pop or explode, and they didn’t mean I know what _Jonghyun hyung’s dick tastes like,_ so maybe he didn’t sound as crazy as he feels. Maybe he was too mean? Yeah. That’s Minho’s car right there, but Taemin keeps his eyes on Minho instead. “Seriously, you look really tired. I’ll drive you.” That’s as close to nice as he can get before he remembers himself, remembers _Dahae,_ and, “Just to drop you off, I can’t stay. Should we take my car?”

Except he left his keys up there.

“Because you’re so busy doing nothing~?” Minho says, so normally. “It’s fine. I’ll call Manager hyung.”

Taemin’s own phone weighs a million more pounds all of the sudden, still and silent against his thigh. There’s nothing stopping him from going back up there and spending more time with Nothing, least of all Minho.

“Kibum hyung always hogs him when we’re not doing group stuff,” Taemin says, crossing to the driver’s side before Minho can argue some more. “Hurry up, hyung. You’re stuck with me.”

Minho tosses him his keys.

 

The last time Taemin visited they were filming by the river, but Minho’s directions take him to a neighborhood that looks like his old one, complete with a hill that has Taemin dying by the time they reach the top. Minho says to wait, he’ll get him some water and call him a taxi, and Taemin is too out of breath to tell him no, so he sits on the porch and waits. It’s Minho’s fault he got out of the car at all. _You sure you don’t want to look around set, Taeminnie? They filmed here for_ The Chaser. _Just a few scenes, but I can show you where. Remember? The one with Son Hyunjoo sunbaenim. You watched some of it with me._

“Taeminnie?”

Dahae.

Taemin’s blood freezes. When he stands and turns, his body fights him the whole way, but then she’s right there, looking as though no time has passed. The last time Taemin saw her was outside the naengmyun restaurant that day. Really before that, back at the table, before Taemin held Jonghyun in the bathroom and started having problems looking her in the face.

“Dahae-ssi.” Minho this time, too late. Taemin should’ve lied and said, _I remember hating it_ or _I hate dramas_ or _I hate you,_ anything that would’ve kept this moment from happening. But Minho presses a paper cup into his hand and says, “Hyung will have to show you around some other time, they’re ready for me now. I told the taxi to pick you up here, so stick around, okay?” Minho pets Taemin’s head, like he’s not the one who’s sent it spinning. “Thanks, Taemin-ah. See you Saturday.” 

And just like that he’s gone, and Dahae is still here.

“What’s Saturday?” she says.

Taemin swallows. “Kibum hyung’s musical.”

“I guess Minho-ssi doesn’t have a girlfriend.”

“It’s hard to date with our jobs,” is about the worst thing Taemin could say, he just doesn’t know it until it comes out of his mouth. He never does.

For one long moment Dahae considers him, dark eyes eating up his face, before she crosses over the porch and lowers herself down, swinging her legs over the edge. She doesn’t pat the spot next to her or tell him _Sit with noona_ or any of the things that would make his insides go black, so it’s okay if he stays over here. It’d be easier to just turn and walk back down that hill, so much easier than it was to climb up, but his legs won’t move. 

Finally she says, “I guess you’d know.”

 _You would, too._ Taemin bites it back, sick suddenly, because what does she mean.

“Hyung told you about me?”

It’s like he has to force the words out of his chest, but maybe that’s because he should know better. The only thing Jonghyun’s ever told anyone was, _There’s nothing wrong with you, Taeminnie. It’s this fucking world._ Taemin keeps breathing, and she says, “That you’re forever solo? It’s just something he said once, I don’t know why I remember it, out of everything.” She hesitates, eyes burning into Taemin’s face. He can’t read the expression on hers. He doesn’t want to. “I don’t know if you knew, but he’d use you as an excuse whenever he was mad at me. ‘I bought Taeminnie food, I can’t come. I have Taeminnie waiting, I can’t talk.’ If you’d had a girlfriend, maybe you would’ve known when to stay out of the way.”

“It wasn’t like that.” Somehow Taemin said that out loud, somehow he’s saying now, “Hyung used to buy me food all the time when we were trainees, Dongdaemun was on our way home. We did all the same things before he met you.”

“Did you ever tell him you didn’t like me?” Dahae asks him. “I told him I disliked you and he blew up at me.”

“I’m sorry,” Taemin begins, but that just makes her eyes flash and her mouth twist.

“What for? We never had to like each other, that was just Jonghyunnie trying to make things easier for himself.” She catches herself there, takes a second just to breathe, slow and deep. “How is he, by the way?”

“Fine.”

It’s out of Taemin’s mouth before he can stop himself, but he’d rather die than take it back. 

She doesn’t ask him to, just snorts and flicks her hair out of her face and throws him a look that could kill. “You can tell him I am, too.”

“I’m not just saying that, I’m not lying to you,” Taemin says with difficulty. “I wouldn’t, not about him.”

Taemin will spend the rest of his life making sure he told her the truth.

“And I suppose he never lies to you?” she snaps.

“Hyung isn’t a liar.”

It’s the furthest thing from funny, but she laughs. “He lies to me all the time.”

Lied, not lies. Lied. But that’s wrong too. And maybe Taemin is the last person who should tell her that, maybe he lost that right the first time he looked at Jonghyun and wanted Jonghyun to look back at him, but it’s hyung. He tries again.

“He’s not a liar, but that doesn’t mean he’s never wrong. Just…he doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean—” She laughs out loud, but Taemin keeps going. “—and if he doesn’t know something, he never pretends he does.”

Dahae just looks at him. It took every last thing inside Taemin to say that much, and now he has nothing left to meet her eyes. Inside the house the PD’s yelling at someone, hopefully not Minho, and out here it looks like rain. Snow, maybe. Taemin doesn’t know how cold it is, just that it’s cold in his slippers and sweatpants, ratty shirt he picked up off his floor.

_Jonghyun’s shirt._

“Cheating isn’t lying?” she says. It’s too cold to breathe. Maybe his heart will explode. Maybe hers is broken into tiny pieces, like broken glass in her throat and her stomach and lungs. Taemin did that to her. Except somehow she’s smiling at him. “I’m not crazy, Taemin-ah, I’m not going to take that out on you. Do you know who it is?”

_It’s me. You already hate me, so you can just hate me some more. Forget hyung and hate me for the rest of your life._

_Take it out on me. Hate me. If you don’t I have to hate myself._

Taemin doesn’t let himself look away. “Mm.”

“And you won’t tell me.”

It’s not a question. Taemin doesn’t need to answer. He can just shut up.

“That’s hyung’s place, not mine.”

If it’s the truth, why does it taste like an excuse? But all she has to say to that is, “Fair enough. Is she pretty? Good body?”

He.

“It’s not like that,” Taemin says stupidly, stomach twisting.

“It’s not?” She laughs sharply. “That’s interesting, he told me he was fucking her.”

“Dahae-ssi,” Taemin gets out through a mouthful of ash. He breathes so deep it almost hurts, or maybe that’s her eyes, piercing right through him. “Hyung told me about you, too. That you dated a lot of people before you dated him. Can’t you let him go? Just this one person. You’ll find someone else.”

“Finding someone is the easy part, Taeminnie,” Dahae tells him. “Try dating for yourself, and see how long you last. It’s a lot harder than it looks.”

_I am trying. I’m trying really, really hard for him. You didn’t try at all, you just hurt him._

“I just meant that it doesn’t have to be him for you,” Taemin starts, but she’s already shaking her head at him.

“I don’t need to need him, wanting him is enough.” She smiles faintly, reading it in his face. “You think I don’t love him.”

“I know you didn’t,” Taemin says. “He knew, too.”

“You two know me better than I know myself? Aigoo.”

For as long as she meets his eyes he has to meet hers. Legs locked, face numb, skin burning, heart pounding, he looks and looks and sees nothing. Who knows what she’s seeing, maybe nothing too, maybe she can see right through him.

“Dahae-ssi. Dahae-ssi!” In less than a second she’s forgotten Taemin, climbing to her feet, peering through the door to see who’s calling. A staffer sticks his head out. “PD-nim wanted to talk to you before trying that scene again.”

“He should talk to the person wrote the dialogue, not the person who’s stuck saying it. I can’t make her writing better.”

“Even so.”

“In a minute, okay?”

“Hurry.”

The door snicks shut and it’s just the two of them again.

“Think whatever you want,” she says instead of goodbye, but when Taemin turns away she grabs his arm, sudden and warm, small pretty hand that touched Jonghyun everywhere and Jonghyun held in his. She’s wearing the same face as before when he looks up. “Remember to tell him you saw me. Tell him I’m fine. Lie for me, okay?”

She doesn’t wait for an answer, but long after she’s gone, Taemin waits for his taxi.

_Why did you ask me? Ask Minho hyung, you see him every day. See what he says. Jonghyunnie hyung doesn’t want to hear about you, that’s why he broke up with you._

_Please. Let hyung go, let me have him, please._

But that’s stupid, because they broke up, it’s over, Jonghyun is with Taemin now, the end. And it’s not up to her, and Jonghyun never even makes Taemin ask, he tells Taemin that he’s his every day. So what if he didn’t answer any of Taemin’s stupid texts, sometimes Taemin goes days without answering Jonghyun’s. If Taemin went to see him now, he’d find some way to say it again. _I love you._ And tomorrow, same thing. The next day. The next day the next day the next day.

Right?

 

“Do you want some of my rice? I haven’t mixed it in yet.”

Taemin stores his mouthful of curry in one bulging cheek. “No.”

Jonghyun doesn’t wrinkle his nose or look away, just pushes his shoulder into Taemin’s and shovels a fluffy white mountain onto Taemin’s plate. “Don’t eat it if you don’t want it. They gave me too much.”

“You eat too, hyung.”

It took Taemin five more unanswered texts and a whole hallway of practice rooms before he found the one with Jonghyun in it, and by then it was only eleven thirty. Jonghyun asked for thirty minutes. Taemin would’ve given him hours, sitting on the practice room floor with Deja-Boo pounding in his ears and Jonghyun settling under Taemin’s skin. Instead he’s here, stuffing his face with cafeteria food, bright lights, people coming and going, Jonghyun’s thigh pressed against his under the table. The dancer hyungs all went out to lunch and won’t be back for hours, but it’s not their album, so when Jonghyun asked Taemin where he wanted to go, he lied and said, _Nowhere. It’s curry day, right?_

“Is this your breakfast?” Jonghyun asks next. “Hyung can buy you dinner later, after Blue Night.” Before Taemin can say anything, Jonghyun adds, “I owe you tteokbokki, remember?”

From way back, from before that night in Japan.

It’s harder than it should be to shake his head no, say, “It’s better for me if I wait, then you have to pay interest. When you’re done with promotions you can buy me food every day~” Taemin fights to swallow, so his smile will look less weird. “How’s practice going?”

“Can you stick around after this? I wanted you to look at the choreography,” Jonghyun says, instead of answering him.

_I saw Hong Dahae this morning. I wanted to see you so I came here. Are you asking me to stay because you want to see me? Because I don’t want to get in your way. You have things to do, hyung._

“What is there for me to look at? I’m not a choreographer. I’d be useless anyway, you’re always saying I’m the slowest at learning Shinee’s choreo.”

“Because you’re so much fun to tease.” Jonghyun tickles under Taemin’s ribs. Trying to squirm away, Taemin ends up trapped against Jonghyun’s side, so he has to pry Jonghyun’s hand away instead. “I always used to watch you instead of the instructor, everything you got wrong I got wrong too,” Jonghyun goes on like this is all still normal, touching and teasing Taemin and making him feel crazy, when Taeyeon just said hi and half of Super Junior is two tables over, and Jinki is probably around here somewhere, and. “It’s okay if you don’t go over the whole thing, I just want to make sure I’m expressing the song right. You can change whatever you want. Please? Taemin sunbaenim?” Jonghyun leans in, lips brushing Taemin’s ear. “It’s not because I want an excuse to stare at your ass, I promise. At least not only.”

Water. Taemin keeps drinking until his glass is empty and that smirk is off Jonghyun’s face, and Taemin finds the breath to change the subject. “Did they get back to you yet? About your title track.”

“I’m fine either way, Taeminnie.” Something in Taemin’s face has Jonghyun reassuring him, “Really, I am. Yongdeok hyung said something to me about focusing on my performance, the way you do, and I don’t think he was wrong.”

He has sauce on the corner of his mouth. Taemin gets it for him before he can overthink it, soft soft lips under his thumb. When he licks it away it tastes hot and sweet and something like Jonghyun.

“It’s different for you though, I can’t write songs,” Taemin says, instead of falling into Jonghyun’s dark, dark eyes or kissing him or something equally stupid. “Remember, Lee Sooman sunsaengnim told us at the beginning that SM doesn’t just make hits, it makes music. Unless he’s all talk.”

“You don’t hate Crazy, though, you said you liked it.” _And I love you._ Maybe Jonghyun reads that in Taemin’s face, because he smiles again. Maybe not. Next thing he’s pinching Taemin’s cheek. “You wouldn’t vote for ‘Crazy’ on the music shows?”

It’s so easy to tell him, “I’d vote for you.”

“Aigoo.” Jonghyun releases him, only to brush his knuckles over Taemin’s cheekbone. “I voted for you like three times per show. I can’t even remember who else was on anymore, I forgot as soon as I saw you.”

“What about your MV, have they said anything about that?”

Jonghyun digs his spoon into what’s left of his rice, taking his time answering. “They told me to work on my abs.”

Like Jonghyun needs to. Like his ego needs Taemin saying that out loud, after he rubbed off on them till he came just two nights ago. Like Taemin could say anything close to any of that _here._

“So it’s gonna be ‘Crazy?’”

Jonghyun just said he was fine either way, but he makes a face at Taemin. “‘Deja-Boo’ is sexy too. It’s subtle, is all.”

“It looked cute to me.”

Jonghyun’s expression twists just a little. A little more and he’d be smiling again, but as it is, he just lays his arm over the back of Taemin’s chair casually and says, “We’ll see later. At least I will. Everything looks better when you do it.”

Not everything. Not anything Taemin is doing right now, that’s for sure, slurping his soup, chopsticks on automatic, bent low over his tray when every last cell in his body that’s not from his brain is yelling at him to lean back into the circle of Jonghyun’s arm. He can’t even remember how Jonghyun’s touch felt before, and he doesn’t know how it looks to other people now. Like nothing, probably.

“You’re not a bad dancer, hyung,” Taemin tells him, even though he shouldn’t have to.

“But I’m not a good one~?”

“You need practice, is all.” Fifteen hours of it a day. Twenty sometimes. Taemin would know better than anyone, he’s the same. Which doesn’t explain why the words are sour in his mouth and he’s already run out of things to say about it. He eats and eats until all he can taste is curry, then gets out, “What about the coordi noonas, what are they going to do to you this time? You said they were coming in to talk to you.”

“They’re letting me pick my hair again,” Jonghyun replies, picking rice off Taemin’s cheek. “I was thinking of going darker.”

It almost sounds like a question.

“Black?”

Jonghyun hesitates. “What about dark brown? I can show you the colors I was looking at tonight and you can tell me what’s good.”

“It’s your hair, hyung,” is all Taemin’s going to say. That’s only slightly more obvious than the fact that Jonghyun’s spent every day of the last seven years making fun of Taemin’s taste level.

Except now Jonghyun presses his fingers to Taemin’s chin, turning him until he’s staring into Jonghyun’s eyes instead of his rice bowl.

“You’re the one who has to look at me,” Jonghyun says, narrowing his eyes at Taemin like he’s being difficult on purpose. “Don’t tell me anything is fine.” That’s like asking Taemin to lie, but before he can figure out how to tell Jonghyun that, Jonghyun demands, “Would it be okay with you if hyung had green hair?”

_Anything would be. As long as you don’t stop looking at me just like this, I’m okay. If I keep looking at you, just like this, will you be okay too?_

But Taemin doesn’t even know what kind of face he’s making, and all he knows to say is stupid stuff like, “It looked fine on T.O.P sunbaenim? As long as it’s all one color, it’s fine.”

Jonghyun doesn’t defend his Ring Ding Dong hair again, just lets him go and shoots him glances over his curry. “Maybe I’ll just stay the same? Close, anyway. I have to change at least a little.”

Taemin tries again, “Darker is good.” Just three little words, and Jonghyun relaxes into his side, smiles around his spoon, shy and secret. His bangs fall into his face as he leans forward for another bite, and Taemin barely catches up to his own hand before he feels Jonghyun’s hair under his fingertips, soft and fine as he brushes it back. “You can grow your roots out a little.”

“Updo?” It took that much for Taemin to answer, and Jonghyun’s asking again already. “If I have to do cute, they can just comb my bangs into my face.” He leans in again, smile pressed to Taemin’s ear. “You like my forehead. You like my everything.”

_You like mine too._

It takes even more for Taemin to swallow those words back and sit still with them trapped inside him, ears going hot, heart humming in his chest. He has to say something that belongs here, something lit up and loud and air-conditioned and curry-flavored. Not something like, “Should I cut my hair? I’ve just been growing my roots out.”

“You and your roots.”

“I bleached it ages ago now and it’s still like straw. I don’t know how you’ve gone all year.”

“If you’re asking me, don’t cut it,” Jonghyun says, hand slipping up Taemin’s back and over the nape of his neck. “I like it.”

And then he winds his fingers in Taemin’s hair and tugs, and just like that, Taemin can taste Jonghyun’s dick in his mouth, feel the weight of him on his tongue, thick and hot and hard and filling Taemin to bursting. And all he has to do is blink and he’ll see Jonghyun’s _Taeminnie-I’m-two-seconds-from-coming-in-your-mouth_ face, and maybe Jonghyun’s moans will be louder than all the noise crushing in on them, and why is Taemin’s body doing this to him here. Why does Jonghyun keep _touching_ him. Doesn’t he know what that does to Taemin? He should.

Taemin scrapes up his last spoonful of rice, not sure where there’s room for it inside him, but there, he gets to say, “I’m done. We can go now.”

“I’m not,” Jonghyun says, tugging again, electricity down Taemin’s spine, straight to his dick. “We have time, Taeminnie. They won’t be back until two, probably.”

“What time is it now?” Taemin says helplessly.

Jonghyun goes to check on automatic, then starts. “Ah. Before I forget, I bought a new phone.”

“Today?” Taemin says, at a loss.

Jonghyun nods, telling him, “Yongdeok hyung picked it up for me. Don’t call the other one anymore, okay? I changed my number.”

“What, why?”

Why is he asking. He knows. For as long as Jonghyun’s been able to afford it, every single one of his breakups has come with a new phone. He has a drawer full of them in his room at home. That’s probably where Taemin’s text messages ended up.

“I keep getting calls from unknown numbers. Could be a sasaeng? Hyung has a lot of fans~” Jonghyun fumbles with his phone. “Hang on.”

_I’m not stupid, hyung. It’s her, right? Then why did she ask me, if you don’t want to talk to her how could I make you._

_I won’t ask. You know you can tell me._

Suddenly Taemin’s phone buzzes against his thigh. Jonghyun nudges him, then again, again again again, “Hurry up and put me in, before you forget,” like Taemin doesn’t think about Jonghyun every second he’s not there, or something. All the same, Taemin fishes it out of his pocket, and finds:

♡

He should call Jonghyun Stupid Hyung, or maybe Jamong, but he’s good and taps out his name. Jonghyun clicks his tongue and wrestles it away from him before he can even finish. Half a second later he’s pressing it back into Taemin’s hands, beaming at him. Not Jonghyun hyung. _Jagiya._

“Are you guys done eating?”

Jinki.

“Yes,” Taemin blurts out, right as Jonghyun says, “No.”

Jinki plops down into the seat across from them, glancing between them. Should Taemin scoot over? When they sat down Jonghyun dragged his chair close enough that its legs locked with Taemin’s, and now he keeps breathing against his side, easy as anything.

“You didn’t tell me you were stopping by, Taemin-ah,” Jinki says.

“You see me at home every day.”

“Jonghyunnie sees you every night, though.”

Taemin’s face heats all on its own. “When I don’t sleep through it.” 

Jonghyun’s hand lands on Taemin’s thigh, big and warm and sudden, stealing the air from Taemin’s lungs. It takes both of Taemin’s just to tug it away, palms pricking with sweat, but that was a mistake, because Jonghyun curls his fingers around Taemin’s and holds on, and says, “He didn’t tell me either, hyung, he just showed up looking for me. I guess he woke up and missed me~”

“I have to pee.” Taemin only realizes he’s said it once he’s on his feet. “See you in the practice room, hyung. Which one again?”

Jonghyun half-rises in his chair when Jinki says, “Do you have to go too or something?”

He slumps back down and shoots Taemin this look he could read in half a second if his brain were still working. “Second floor, Taemin-ah,” he says finally. “End of the hallway. The one with the window that always jams.”

Taemin can’t breathe again until he’s halfway down the hallway, out from under the lights and the noise and forty pairs of eyes, Jonghyun’s and Jinki’s and Dahae’s. His phone buzzes the rest of the way up to the practice room, until the door clatters shut behind Taemin and the hardwood floor rushes up to meet him, hard and solid. The lights in the ceiling make Taemin dizzy, so he rolls over and buries his face in his arms.

His phone buzzes again.

_dont go home taeminnie~_

_please_

_ill be good_

What? Taemin’s being stupid, but not enough for Jonghyun to think he would do that. He flicks past it, all the way back up to the heart Jonghyun sent him in the cafeteria.

_wait for me next time_

_dont give me an excuse to kiss you and then take it away_

What, make out in SM’s bathroom? 

_you didnt really have to pee. im not being crazy right_

_it was jinki hyung not me_

_right?_

_i wasnt being too much?_

_u were being too cute though_

What is Taemin supposed to do with him? No, really. He never knew before and he never knows now, now that he really, really has to. He said he’d take responsibility for Jonghyun. Jonghyun asked him if he was sure he could, he asked him a million times in a million different ways, and all Taemin thought about was himself.

_hyung eats too slow_

Bad.

_really had to pee_

Worse. That’s a lie. He has to do better. 

_it was me im being weird_

_curry wasnt as good today. we shouldve gone out._

_i know we kissed here but its still too weird._

_i get weird about it. sorry_

Jonghyun knows he’s weird. Taemin deletes it.

_i drove minho hyung to work. saw hong dahae_

_is it lying if i dont tell u_

_u can talk to me about her. u used to before. if shes been bothering u tell me._

_im not stupid hyung. i trust u_

_i love u_

He’s being weird right now. In ten minutes he’ll see Jonghyun again. No talking, just them and "Deja-Boo," until the dancer hyungs come back and Taemin has to find some way to give Jonghyun up again. But until then, just the two of them. He never wants to see her again.

He deletes it.

 

“Are you hungry, Taemin-ah?”

Taemin looks up to find Jinki hovering in the doorway of his room. “You haven’t eaten yet? It’s past nine.”

Taemin hasn’t either. If he told Jonghyun to pay up earlier, he’d still have hours to go before Jonghyun bought him tteokbokki and sat with him under the night sky. He might’ve made it until then, too. He’s not at all hungry now.

Apparently that doesn’t show in Taemin’s face at all, since Jinki tries again. “Should we order something~?”

“You mean chicken,” Taemin accuses him. He’s so obvious. “I thought you were on a diet.”

“Do you want to go out, then?” Jinki presses, instead of retreating into the kitchen and scavenging on banchan. They’re running low again. Kibum is gone and Jonghyun has no time, so it’s up to Jinki to do something about that. Him or someone’s mom.

Taemin flops back down onto his bed, hugging his pillow. “I’d have to get up. I need to lose weight too. I can’t get fat right now.”

“Aigoo.” Jinki’s footsteps carry him closer instead of taking him away, until Jonghyun’s mattress creaks and Jinki sinks into it with a sigh. When Taemin peers over at him he makes a face. “You were supposed to be my excuse.”

“Sorry, hyung.”

“It’s fine, I can just have snacks and soju later. Minho isn’t around so I don’t need an excuse to drink~”

Great, now Taemin wants some. But it’s a long way to two thirty and it’s impossible for Taemin to keep up with Jinki, he’ll end up drunk and just get drunker and drunker. Jonghyun would come home to a mess and maybe Taemin would forget and kiss him outside these four walls. And then…nothing. They’d sleep and Taemin would wake up alone.

“Jonghyunnie hyung stopped. You should too,” Taemin tells Jinki.

Jinki nods, like that’s totally fair, when Jonghyun forgets his own name halfway through the first bottle. “Does he seem different to you?”

Jonghyun?

Heart pounding all of the sudden, Taemin manages, “What do you mean?”

Jinki puts on his thinking face. It’s all Taemin can do to lie here instead of jumping up and getting it off his face somehow, I changed my mind, hyung, let’s get chicken. I’m hungry, go order it. I’m starving.

“Like he’s too normal,” Jinki says at last.

Oh. Taemin buries his face in his pillow and waits to stop feeling crazy, until he has to let something out, and the first safe thing is, “Try and make sense, hyung.”

“Usually he falls apart when he breaks up with someone, but he’s taking it well this time,” Jinki explains, probably because Taemin just went and asked him to. He’s so stupid. “Too well.”

“I don’t wanna talk about her, hyung,” Taemin tells his pillow. “If you want to hear about it, try Minho.”

“He doesn’t talk to me about stuff like that, neither does Jonghyunnie. You’re the only one who talks to me about anything,” Jinki’s voice says. Then, so quiet Taemin’s not sure if he’s not supposed to hear or if he’s just supposed to pretend he can’t, “Even you don’t sometimes.”

Jinki is impossible. When Taemin emerges from his pillow Jinki’s flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

“What do you want to know?” Taemin says finally.

Right away Jinki comes back at him with, “Is he okay?”

As much as Jonghyun ever is? He’s tired and stressed and scared to death no one will love his album like he does, but he still gets up early every morning and he still works all day and night, and when he goes through the hell of promotions, for the first time he’ll sing his own words, dance to his own music, be himself. And if Taemin has anything to say about it, no matter how many copies of his album sell or how high Deja-Boo charts or what their fans think, what anyone does, that will be enough for Jonghyun. Just being himself. Jonghyun promised Taemin he would try, months ago now, before they were together. And now they are, and all Taemin can do is try and help.

It takes so much just to let himself say it: “Yes. Or at least he will be.”

“Then okay,” Jinki replies simply. “When he acts fine, half the time that means he’s not, so I didn’t know what to think.”

“Only half?” Somehow Taemin is smiling. “I don’t know what could make hyung happy, but he’s happier.”

“He looks like he gained weight. That’s good.”

“Muscle,” Taemin says automatically. Was that weird? No. Jinki has seen Jonghyun naked ten million times, and Jonghyun used to flash his abs at anyone who’d stand still long enough. And now he just lays there and breathes under Taemin’s hands and smirks up at the look on Taemin’s face. “For his MV. He spends hours at the gym, he comes home later every night.” Not that Taemin waits up for him, at least as far as Jinki needs to know. “Jonghyunnie hyung is okay. Anything else?”

If he is being weird Jinki doesn’t call him on it. Just asks, “Are you?”

“What?”

“Just…there’s something different about you, too.” Jinki narrows his eyes at Taemin. “A lot of things.”

_Jonghyunnie hyung fucks me every night and I think about him all day. It’s like he stays inside me after he comes, because there’s no room for anything else but him. If I don’t go back to work soon I think I’ll go crazy. Maybe I am already, maybe that’s what you mean?_

Every muscle in Taemin’s body is screaming at him to sit up, so he does, but then the next thing is to get up, get away, go hide in the bathroom or take a long walk and wait for Jinki to forget what they were talking about. Taemin sits it out, Jinki’s words skittering up and down his nerves, until he blurts out, “I’m just bored, _Ace_ feels like a million years ago. But I’m fine, hyung.” It’s true, Taemin is so much more than fine, and the longer Jinki looks at him, the more Taemin ends up meaning it. “Really. I’m happy.”

“Is that what a happy person sounds like~? You sleep past noon. You never go out unless it’s to visit work and you never want to do anything. You just sit at home all day.”

“Look who’s talking.”

Jinki smiles up at Taemin, but his heart isn’t in it. “Uh huh, look at me.”

And just like that, Taemin’s heart hurts. “Hyung…”

“If there’s something going on, you know you can talk to me, right?” Jinki says before Taemin can figure out what’s next, expression warping ever so slightly.

“You can talk to me, too,” Taemin tells him uselessly. It’s not like he’d be any help. Jonghyun is bad enough, but Jinki is impossible. The only things Taemin’s ever understood about Jinki are the things Jinki says out loud, no matter how little sense Jinki makes to the others. But the things Jinki keeps inside…

“I wouldn’t know what to say,” Jinki says, so gently. “I’ve lived this way so long I don’t even want to change anymore. It’s just how hyung is.” He smiles again, smiles and smiles until Taemin can’t help it, he smiles back. “It’s not how you are, though.”

Aaaand they’re back to that. Should Taemin just tell him? _I have Jonghyunnie hyung so stop worrying about me._

But at the last second he hesitates. And now somehow instead Taemin is saying, “My thing about happiness is, once you have it, what do you do with it? I lose things all the time. That or I break them. I keep thinking I need to protect this feeling from myself somehow.”

“Bubble wrap?” Jinki suggests. It’s not funny, in that way Jinki never is, which doesn’t explain why Taemin is smiling.

“I’m being serious, hyung. I guess I make no sense.”

“Nope~” Jinki agrees. He doesn’t laugh at the look Taemin shoots him, just struggles upright and faces Taemin from across the room. All that does is make Taemin want to look away, especially when Jinki says, even gentler than before, “Stop thinking so much, Taeminnie. And don’t try and get everything perfect. Just keep doing your best every day.”

“You too.” That’s as much as Taemin can say to him, but he puts his whole heart into it. He cracks a smile, just so Jinki will too. “You better. I used to be jealous of you and Jonghyunnie hyung, but I had to do everything on my own when I went solo. I didn’t realize how hard it’d be to sing the whole song. If you slack off I’ll get stuck with your lines, you’re not allowed to.”

“Aigoo.” Jinki flops back down onto Jonghyun’s bed, like just the thought drained all his energy. Before Taemin can follow suit Jinki pulls something small and bright red out from under Jonghyun’s pillow. Briefs. “Aren’t these yours?”

 _No._ Taemin bites it back, on his feet and across the room before he knows it, snatching them away, because yes. Jonghyun only wears black, Jinki would know from the five million times he’s seen Jonghyun undress in the last seven years.

“It must’ve gotten stuck together in the wash,” flies out of Taemin’s mouth. He wads them up in his fist until he can get them over to his underwear drawer. There. Evidence destroyed. Excuse made. There.

Taemin turns in time to catch Jinki frowning. “Did Ahjumma skip my room?”

“I changed my mind, let’s go out.”

“Huh? Oh. Let’s not go far, it’s getting late. What about the convenience store? I can stock up on some things.” It’s all Taemin can do not to rush him, yank on his arm until he’s on his feet or shove his shoulders until he’s out of their room. Jinki takes all the time in the world. “It’s good hyung found it before Jonghyunnie did. He would’ve tortured you. Taken a picture or something.”

“Chicken,” Taemin says loudly.

It works. Kinda. Jinki still pauses in the doorway to ask, “Beer?”

“Just one. I’ll stop there too. It makes you fat, hyung.”

But chimaek makes Jinki happy. Taemin lets him have three. He has two. He can’t get tipsy. He can’t miss Jonghyun.

 

Taemin doesn’t wake up alone, because his phone is over there, buzzing and buzzing and buzzing. He fumbles his hand across his bedside table until he can feel it, this weird surging feeling in his heart. “Okay, hyung. Okay.”

_sorry taeminah_

_cant make it tonight. have a night scene to shoot._

Shooting? Oh. Minho hyung. Taemin is just going to bury his head in his pillow and lie still and wait for this sinking feeling to go away. But it doesn’t and neither does his phone, and neither will tonight. Which, what is Minho even talking about?

_left my ticket in my room somewhere if u can find someone else to go_

Kibum’s musical. Today is Saturday?

_its ok if u cant kibummie still has my money_

_but its a good show it deserves a full house so try ok_

_dont forget to tell kibummie i said hi~_

For the longest time, Taemin just lies there some more. And then he looks at the clock. Ten thirty. Okay. He’s allowed to call people, that’s not too early. Especially not after he wastes the next ten minutes looking for Jonghyun’s name, then staring at “Jagiya” and remembering the stupid smile Jonghyun gave him. Is he smiling right now? Probably not. He’s too busy to.

Jongin is in Japan and he doesn’t like Taemin enough to fly back, so Taemin tries Soojung instead. And then tries her again. This time she answers on the first ring, just to whine at him, “Oppa~, did you forget how to text? You’re lucky I’m on a break. PD-nim gets super pissed when people take calls.”

“Oh.”

Pause. Then, “You forgot I’m doing a drama, didn’t you?” She sighs in his ear. Moves on before he can even think about lying. “What is it?”

Maybe Taemin shouldn’t ask, but, “You don’t have tonight off?”

“Why?”

“Kibum hyung’s musical,” Taemin tells her. “Minho hyung bought tickets, but now he says he can’t go. He’s filming too. It starts at eight.”

Soojung sighs again, saying, “I never know when I’m going to get out,” instead of no. That’s always the hardest word for her to say. “Sorry, oppa. I would’ve fallen asleep in the theater anyway, probably.” Another pause. Then, maybe a little too carefully, “Have you asked Jonginnie?”

Or maybe Taemin’s being the weird one, noticing things that aren’t there. Jinri told him Soojung liked Jongin and Soojung told Jonghyun that Taemin did, and Taemin told Jonghyun he loved him, no matter how stupid Jonghyun was being. He never told Soojung that, though. And now she’s waiting for him to say something, so, “Did you forget he’s on tour~? I need new friends, everyone’s busier than me.”

“What about hyungs?” she suggests. “Jinki oppa?”

“He’s going on a different night.”

“Jonghyun oppa?” Taemin’s stomach flips at the sound of his name. He flops over onto his side and draws his knees up to his chest, like that’d stop it, and in the meantime she catches up. “That’s right, his album. Is he finished recording yet? He said they were giving him a hard time.”

“He told you that?” He never tells Taemin anything. Maybe Taemin shouldn’t need him to, but he does, and then Jonghyun goes around and talks to everyone else, and Taemin gets to lie in bed alone, feeling stupid and trying not to sound like it. “He showed me the masters last week. I guess you’ll have to wait to buy the album~. It should drop in January. The company started booking time on music shows for him.”

She groans in sympathy. “I always hate that part the most.”

“Promotions?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s actually the worst, but I meant the time right before, when there’s nothing to do but practice,” Soojung says. “Those unnies have so much fucking energy, Jinri and I are always dying trying to keep up with them.” Her words linger in the air, heavier and heavier, until she corrects herself in a brittle voice, “Past tense were, I guess.”

“You sound like Jinki hyung,” Taemin says as normally as he can. “Jonghyunnie hyung gets tired fast, too, but he never says anything.”

She laughs and he can breathe again.

“He’s so weird,” she says. “He always jokes around and puts on like he doesn’t care, but if you just ask he’ll tell you anything. And I can just tell, he always wants to be asked so badly.”

“I get scared he won’t tell me, or he’ll say no to me, or something.”

Somehow Taemin said that out loud. Soojung replies like normal though, “Huh,” like he didn’t just show her his whole heart, like the real thing isn’t any uglier than the kind they make with their fingers. “Maybe it’s just that he doesn’t try to act cool with me. He knows it won’t work~”

“He doesn’t with me either. He’s himself,” Taemin says, a little too quickly, but whatever, it’s the truth.

“Maybe your problem isn’t him, it’s you. Look how you asked me if I wanted to go tonight.”

What is that supposed to mean? Taemin curls in on himself some more until his knees dig into his chest, forcing the words out. “I didn’t even ask him.”

“It was just an example, oppa,” Soojung says patiently. “Anyway, you’re talking about personal stuff, right?”

“This is personal, though.”

“Asking for favors? Aigoo. You never ask at all, you just tell him. Go tell Jonghyunnie oppa he has to go with you and see what he says.”

Before Taemin knows what he’s saying he’s saying it. “It’s not like that, it wouldn’t be a favor. I think it would be a date.”

Silence.

“Um. What??”

Taemin should bite his tongue, laugh it off, tell her she misheard him and make something else up, the thing he should have said. But the longer Taemin lays here the further that gets away from him, until, “We’re dating,” comes rushing up to meet him. “You can’t tell anyone. I shouldn’t be telling you, sorry.”

“Wow, okay.” More silence, a different kind. If her first one stared at him, this one blinks. Taemin doesn’t. Just nails his eyes to his ceiling and sees nothing and nothing and more nothing. His heart is going a million miles an hour. “Wow, the only thing that makes more sense now is this conversation. Everything else is just…what the fuck?? You and Jonghyunnie oppa.”

“Mm,” is all he can get out. That’s not enough for Soojung.

“But you like Jonginnie,” she says loudly.

“Soojung-ah—”

She gets there first. “You’re saying you don’t. But I was so sure. Like so, so sure. For literal years.”

“Hyung told me you told him that,” Taemin replies. “Soojung-ah…”

“Oh my God,” she says over him, “that is so awkward looking back, he must’ve been ticked at me. I acted like I knew you better than him, too. Fuck, that is gonna be so embarrassing when I’m not in shock.”

If Taemin tells her it shouldn’t be he’ll just make it worse, so he waits with her instead. Scrubs sleep out of his eyes. Scratches his ankle. Just waits. Realizes he’s having this conversation naked. And when he can’t take it anymore, says, “Everyone else joked about me and Jonginnie, but you never did. I always thought it was because you knew I liked guys, not that you thought I liked him.” Should he say this next thing? “Jinri told me you do.”

Soojung laughs again. It doesn’t sound fake, though, and her voice comes out almost normal. “When was this? She thinks she knows everything.”

“You don’t like him? Like that, I mean.”

“I do. Kinda. I don’t know, it’s confusing when you’ve been friends for a long time. I guess you can probably understand that.”

Taemin can and he can’t. There’s never been a time in his life where he liked Jonghyun, not kinda, not even really, really. He’s always loved him. Or maybe it’s just that he’s too slow to know his own heart. Somehow he missed the moment when the trainee hyung who walked him home and night and bought him food every day became his Jonghyun hyung. And it’s only been a few months, but he can’t remember the exact moment he fell for Jonghyun, or tell Soojung why he did. Except Taemin can remember the exact moment he became Jonghyun’s, the air conditioner humming, the scratchy hotel sheets against his skin, the look on Jonghyun’s face as he came inside Taemin, hot and wet, coming and coming and coming. And now it’s like every little touch and every little word is in a language Taemin can barely speak, and Jonghyun never tells him when he’s gotten something wrong. Just tickles Taemin’s side or pets his hair or pinches his cheek like he used to, with the same hands he uses to bring Taemin off every night.

_Hyung is my boyfriend._

“I don’t know if I’m supposed to be different,” Taemin confesses. “I don’t know if he wants different things from me than he did before.” His face burns, because that did not sound right. “Besides the obvious.”

“Just be yourself, oppa. That’s why Jonghyun oppa likes you,” Soojung says. She half laughs, half groans. “Sorry if this is mean, but you have no idea how weird it is to even say that. Is this real life right now?”

“Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it for me, either.” Taemin says it without thinking, but then his own words don’t go anywhere, just sit on top of his chest. “He broke up with her for me. His girlfriend. Hong Dahae.”

“Details,” Soojung demands. “Not about her, about you two.”

What is there to say?

“It started over the summer.” _When hyung was still with her._ Taemin falters. “I was fine liking him by myself, and then he told me he liked me too.” When he was still with her. “I tried to be smart and turn him down, and I thought I could handle it, but it got really bad. For him, too.”

“Forget it, oppa,” Soojung cuts him off. “I’ll ask Jonghyun oppa later, he’ll give me more than the cliffsnotes version.”

“Just pretend you don’t know for now. We haven’t even talked about telling anyone yet,” Taemin says. “I thought this would be harder on him than me but I’m doing so much worse than him.”

Of all things, she laughs. “So hang up on me and call him. Seriously, it’s okay that you asked me, but don’t ask any of your guy friends.” She pauses. “Unless you want to make him jealous? No, never mind. You’re not allowed to, it’s Jonghyun oppa.”

Why would Taemin even want to? Why is the thought fluttering around in his stomach? Anyway, “He only gets weird about Jonginnie.”

“If I were dating Jonginnie I’d probably get weird about you, so.”

“Please don’t,” Taemin rushes to say. “All the girls who liked him before ended up hating me, and none of them were even dating him. They didn’t know I like men, either. Which, Jonginnie isn’t one, not to me.”

Soojung takes mercy on him pretty quickly. “I was kidding, oppa. You’re not allowed to say anything either, by the way. I’m not sure yet, plus I don’t even know if he likes me back.”

“Ask him and see~” Taemin sings out, even though it’s not funny, and he shouldn’t joke. She never laughed at him and Jongin, and she didn’t laugh at him now, tell him, _If you’re going to mess with me don’t be so obvious about it. Jonghyun oppa’s always dated women._ “I’m saying it’s safe to ask, Soojungie,” Taemin gets out, throat squeezing in on him all the sudden. “Jonginnie’s a good friend, but I think he’d make a good boyfriend too. He likes you a lot. Don’t be like me, don’t just think about everything else that could go wrong. Think about yourself, too.”

For the longest time, she doesn’t reply. Sunlight is pouring in through the blinds, spilling out over their floor. Jonghyun must’ve picked Taemin’s dirty clothes up off it earlier, but he forgot his watch on their nightstand, and his glasses are right where Taemin’s should be, wedged in front of his clock. Since he started sleeping in Taemin’s bed he’s started stealing that spot, and Taemin’s started losing his glasses all the time. 

“Lee Taemin, giving out relationship advice. I’ve really heard everything,” Soojung says suddenly, finally. But she can’t just leave it at that, she’s so bad at pretending to be mean. “Thanks, oppa.” She clears her throat and smiles in his ear. “Don’t talk to me again until you’ve asked your boyfriend out.”

 

After Soojung hangs up on him Taemin forces himself to climb out of bed and follows all the little traces of Jonghyun into the bathroom, his razor forgotten on the counter, one leg of his pants sticking out of the hamper, his still-damp towel. The shower isn’t hot or cold or anything, and Taemin’s rice tastes like rice. As lunch ticks by Jonghyun doesn’t burst in through the door and fuck him over the couch, and wishing someone would get a kidney stone like Jang PD’s wife did would just make Taemin a bad person. He should stop before he starts, anyway. Maybe Jonghyun will be too tired when he gets home. But maybe if Taemin did all the work it’d be okay? If he got him hard with his hands and mouth, then rode him until Jonghyun gasped and moaned and made that face and came inside Taemin. Or maybe, if Taemin called him and asked him to take the night off, he would.

Maybe.

For once Taemin finds his phone right where he left it. He faceplants into his pillow, rolls onto his back. Sits up. He can’t do this lying down, his heart might come up his throat.

Jagiya. Jonghyun is so stupid. Taemin can fix it later, but for now he presses his phone to his ear and breathes. This is so stupid, he’s the stupid one. It’s just hyung. Just Taemin’s boyfriend. Just—

“Jagiya~?”

This weird feeling bubbles up inside Taemin. Laughter maybe. “Did you change me in your phone, too?”

“You haven’t changed it back?” Not yet. Before Taemin can tell him that, Jonghyun goes on, “Did the world end or something? Since you’re calling me,” this weird smile in his voice. Taemin’s only seen it on his face a few times, and all of those lying in Jonghyun’s arms, Jonghyun spent and glowing, nosing in for a kiss.

“I text you.”

“You text me back,” Jonghyun corrects him. “Sometimes.”

And sometimes Taemin texts him and he goes and changes his phone number, probably to avoid his crazy ex-girlfriend, but anyway. “Are you busy?”

“If you wanted to hear my voice, you can just say that~”

That’s not an answer, which probably means, “Really busy?”

“They took another smoke break, it’s okay,” Jonghyun tells him. “What is it, Taeminnie?”

_Go to Kibum hyung’s musical with me. We’re dating. Let’s go on a date. Soojungie said it would count. Because I told her about us. Sorry, hyung. I didn’t mean to, it just happened._

Somehow none of that comes out of his mouth on its own, so all Taemin is left with is, “How late do you think you’ll work?”

“It’s Saturday, right?”

Days of the week are always the first thing to go for Jonghyun.

“Mm.”

“Then I can stay here later and still get home sooner,” Jonghyun says. And then, all hushed and gentle, “I miss you. I’m going crazy, I wish I weren’t going solo. Then you’d be trapped here with me.”

“If I survived without you you can survive without me.” It stops sounding like the thing he should say the moment it’s out there, but Taemin doesn’t know what to do with it, make Jonghyun forget he said it, laugh it off, say something stupider. “I don’t want to get in your way, hyung. If I asked you to choose between me and your album, I don’t know if I would win, anyway.”

Yeah, that last thing. Taemin’s ears burn, but Jonghyun doesn’t even tell him he’s being a brat, just tells him, “It’s for you, Taeminnie. It’s about you.”

He’s had Jonghyun inside him, telling him he loves him how many times now, just last night he did, but still, Taemin’s stomach flips over.

“You say that like it’s a good thing. What about ‘Crazy,’ how is that about me? It sounds more like Hong Dahae.” Her name trips off his tongue so easily, but then it hangs in the air like smoke, like ash in Taemin’s lungs. He has to push his voice out of his chest. “Sorry, I didn’t think.”

_I saw her. She says she’s still thinking about you. Tell me you’re not thinking about her?_

“You can say her name,” Jonghyun says, so close to normal. And then, so gently Taemin doesn’t know what to do with himself, “If it doesn’t hurt you, it doesn’t hurt me.”

“Hyung…”

“I’ll come home, don’t worry. If you get tired don’t wait up for me, I’ll still be there in the morning,” Jonghyun says, moving on a little too quickly. That probably means, _Her name is enough. I don’t want to talk about it._ Or maybe it doesn’t mean anything, and it’s just Taemin who can’t keep up. He doesn’t realize it was his turn to talk until Jonghyun fills his silence, takes another guess. “Are you going back to your parents’ tonight or something? I’m not that crazy, Taeminnie, you can just tell me things like that. I don’t mind.”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?” Jonghyun asks again.

Taemin gathers his courage.

“Come with me to Kibum hyung’s musical.”

At least that’s what he meant to say, except it all rushed out in one long word mashed together.

“What?”

Jonghyun hyung would never say no to him, but that’s because Taemin never asked him for stuff like this. And who knows, Taemin’s boyfriend might. Taemin takes a deep breath.

“Kibum hyung’s musical is tonight. I was gonna go with Minho hyung but he can’t make it, they got behind filming.” Soojung would kill him if he left it at that, though. What else is there? Just, “He said it was good the last time he saw it.”

_I don’t care if it’s good or not, I just want to sit next to you for two hours and fight you for the armrest between us and wait for you to try and hold my hand. And then I’ll want to let you, and maybe I will. It’ll be dark. I will._

“What time?”

“Eight,” Taemin says automatically, before his brain catches up. His heart is light years ahead already. “It’s okay if you’re busy, hyung.”

“I’ll come.”

“Really, it’s okay. If I were you I’d probably keep working. I’m not crazy either, it’s not like I wouldn’t understand.”

Jonghyun takes that in, then says back, “It sounds like you don’t want me to.”

Taemin’s heart is going to give out. Just two little words, and he has to push so hard to get there. “I do.” But then on the other side it’s like everything opens up, and he has the breath to say it again and again and again. “I want you to come.”

“I have time for you, Taeminnie,” Jonghyun tells him, all soft and warm and Taemin doesn’t know what, “always.” Tonight at least. Taemin won. Jonghyun loves him more. Jonghyun loves him. Jonghyun, Jonghyun, Jonghyun~. “You really wouldn’t make time for me~?”

“I don’t know.” 

But there’s no teasing Jonghyun, not when he can’t keep his smile out of his voice. Jonghyun makes this low amused noise in his ear. “I do. All I’d have to do is tell you what I’d do to you when I took you home.”

Taemin goes hot all over, and if his heart keeps this up it’ll crack his ribs. He flops onto his stomach before that can happen, but there’s no smushing this feeling down. So he lays there and lets it take him over instead, and strains to hear Jonghyun breathe in his ear.

“Thank you, hyung.”

“Thank you?” Jonghyun laughs. “You’re so weird.”

“You’re weirder, you’re the one who loves me.” If he’d held out a little longer, maybe Jonghyun would’ve said it himself. All Taemin has to do is breathe, and Jonghyun would say it. And right now, Jonghyun is breathing on the other end, break ticking down, waiting for Taemin to let him go first. Taemin wants to hold onto him forever. “I love you, too. I’m not good at saying it.”

“Pick me up? And bring me a change of clothes.” Taemin has one second with that, before Jonghyun’s adding in a rush, “Nice clothes, Taemin-ah.”

“Like a suit? Do you keep one here?”

Short silence. Then, “It’s just you and Jinki hyung, right? Forget it, I’ll ask my mom.”

Whatever. “I still have to dress myself.”

“Wear a shirt with buttons,” Jonghyun says. Taemin knew that much, he’s not stupid. Except he doesn’t know anything, because this is his first date, who cares if it’s only Jonghyun. It’s no good clinging to Jonghyun’s words, though, because the next thing is, “Wear whatever. You’ll make Kibummie happy, he’ll get to make fun of you. And me, too.”

Taemin’s stomach does this weird fluttering thing. “You’ll get to take it off later?”

In this bed, too. When Taemin rolls over now all he sees is the bedroom ceiling, but if he closes his eyes there’s Jonghyun, hair slick with sweat, dark, dark eyes staring into him, wet open mouth Taemin’s dying to kiss. But Jonghyun is miles away, probably standing around in the back lot where Taemin used to go out to smoke, and can’t do anything about it.

“You look beautiful in anything,” is all he says. “You’re beautiful.”

Later. Tonight. Tonight, tonight, tonight.

“I guess sweatpants are okay.”

Jonghyun doesn’t fall for it, just smirks in his ear. “Uh huh. Your ass looks good in them.”

“Hoodie,” Taemin piles on. “Face mask. I don’t feel like showering.”

“Taemin-ah~” Jonghyun groans. Finally. Taemin was running out of ideas. “We’re going to a theater, not a PC bang. I didn’t say I didn’t want you to try. Try for me. Mm?”

“I’ll just make it worse if I do.” Taemin might get closer to no as the afternoon wears on and the sun sets and the clock finally catches up with him before the Taemin in the mirror does, but he can’t say it to Jonghyun. “We’ll see~”

“I want to see,” Jonghyun says in this voice that makes Taemin’s ears go hot.

“Eight. Which means seven, seven thirty? I have to look up where it is.”

“I’ll be here. Text me, okay?”

Okay.

Taemin’s holding his phone too tight, pressing it too close to his cheek. The screen is probably getting gross. “You have to go, right?”

“Mm.” Jonghyun hesitates. Sighs. But there’s a smile in his voice when he goes on, “Hang up? I can’t make myself, I want to stay with you.”

Taemin closes his eyes and breathes him in. He could stay right here, just like this, forever. But then tonight would never come, Jonghyun would never debut, Shinee would never come back, and he’d never get to see Jonghyun again. It’s only half a day. Taemin has a life. He has things to do after this, such as go into their closet and not come out until he’s figured out how not to embarrass himself or Jonghyun, because they’re dating, this is a date, they’re going on a date. Their first. Taemin’s first.

“Fighting, hyung,” he gets out, and hangs up.

 

Taemin gets dressed five times. The first four won’t count until Jonghyun comes home and sees all the clothes on their closet floor, unless Taemin remembers how to fold them, but how is that the important thing right now. And anyway, not five after all. Five and a half. When he stood in front of the fridge trying to freeze all his nerve endings or distract them with food, turns out he dripped sauce down his shirt. He only realizes when he pees for the sixtieth time and checks himself in the mirror. Trying to scrub it clean just rubs the stain in. Shit. He liked that shirt. Oh well. He likes Jonghyun more and he only has ten minutes to find a replacement. Which, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Taemin only looked away from the clock for a second and it went and jumped ahead thirty minutes.

Taemin grabs the nearest thing with buttons, just like Jonghyun said. There. Except he can’t remember where the fuck he put his keys. He has like three heart attacks and survives them all, and finally finds them in his pocket. Okay. Those are Jinki’s shoes, where did Taemin leave his—oh, there.

Okay.

Not okay. Will he even be able to find SM like this? He has to, or Jonghyun will make fun of him for the rest of time, and Taemin can’t think of a single story Jonghyun would believe over Taemin being Taemin. He doesn’t spend the whole way over trying, though, just half of it. Then he turns the radio on, louder and louder until his heart and his brain both shut up. By the time he parks at SM he’s as close to normal as he’s going to get tonight. Right up until the moment he digs in his pocket and realizes his phone is still on their bedside table. Or the kitchen maybe? Who cares. Jonghyun is waiting for him right in there, and he said to text him, and Taemin can’t. He can’t breathe, either. He told Jonghyun. He warned him. _You should worry about yourself. We’ll see if I suck at dating, but I’m bad at talking and I’m bad at feelings, so probably?_

Jonghyun is waiting outside the building. When he sees Taemin he waves and smiles that crinkly-eyed smile and meets him halfway. Dark shirt and dark pants and dark eyes and dark hair, glossy and soft looking, parted and combed out of his face.

“You dyed it,” Taemin says stupidly.

“I forgot until Yongdeok hyung took me to the salon instead, I wasted all morning there,” Jonghyun tells him, so normally. Each word is like air in Taemin’s lungs, so much he’s dizzy with it. Jonghyun’s hand brushes Taemin’s, accidentally-on purpose. “And then I wanted to surprise you.”

“I was surprised.”

Jonghyun narrows his eyes at him. “Not in a bad way?”

If Taemin’s brain weren’t on vacation he could be having fun with this, but all that’s left to him is honesty. He fumbles for Jonghyun’s hand, closes his fingers around Jonghyun’s thumb. Looks anywhere but him. “It suits you.”

Jonghyun skims his fingertips over Taemin’s knuckles, smile in his voice as he says, “Where did you park?”

Good question, but it’s late and there aren’t many cars left besides Taemin’s, so it’s not that hard to pretend he knows the answer in the end. A better one would be, Where is the theater again? Or maybe, How is Taemin supposed to drive with Jonghyun buckled in next to him, snatching glances at him every five seconds? As soon as Taemin catches him Jonghyun smiles and stares instead. Stares and stares. Part of Taemin wants to crawl into Jonghyun’s lap and cling to him until Jonghyun unravels the knot in Taemin’s stomach, SM parking lot or no, part of him wants to give up and ask Jonghyun to drive, and part of him never wants Jonghyun to know those other two parts exist.

He starts the car. Jonghyun tells him about his day and all Taemin hears is his voice, soft and low, and the most he can do to pretend he still understands words is to grunt back. Oh. Huh. Really. And when that fails, nodding his head. Taemin sucks. He sucks so, so much. Jonghyun doesn’t mind, though, just lays his hand on Taemin’s arm, and every once in a while says things like, _Slow down, Taeminnie, the light is gonna turn,_ or, _You want to turn right here, Taeminnie. We performed at this theater once, don’t you remember? ‘Sherlock.’ Your in-ear stopped working but you wouldn’t take mine. You said it hurt when you tried it, that hyung’s ears are shaped weirdly._ And when Taemin takes the first parking spot he sees when they’re blocks and blocks away, because what if there’s no parking, what if Taemin gets stuck in a loop all night, all Jonghyun says is, _Take my coat, Taemin-ah. I knew you’d forget yours._

He bundles Taemin into it before Taemin can say no. Like he would. It’s soft and warm and smells like Jonghyun, and it gets Taemin through the crowded streets, the noise and the lights and all the people who could recognize them. Once they reach the theater Jonghyun takes Taemin’s wrist in his hand and leads him around to the back entrance. Jonghyun only remembers to let go when they find Kibum in his waiting room, and Taemin remembers to twist out of his grip. Taemin’s heart hates Taemin for it.

“I can’t talk long,” Kibum says. Good. Taemin can’t talk at all. “I have to save my voice for important things anyway.”

Jonghyun makes a face at him. “Aigoo.”

Taemin lets the two of them talk, back and forth and back and forth, until suddenly he remembers, “Minho hyung said hi. He wanted to come but he’s busy filming.”

Obviously. That’s why this is a date. That’s why Taemin’s heart is going to fall out his mouth if he tries to say anything else.

Kibum half smiles half smirks at Taemin. “And Jonghyun hyung is the best you could do~?”

Jonghyun skips throwing Kibum a scandalized look, eyes lingering on Taemin’s face. All Taemin can do is tell the truth again.

“Mm,” he gets out.

He almost misses it when Jonghyun adds, “I’m an upgrade,” blinded by the smile Jonghyun gives him.

“I don’t know, Minho sent flowers. You two just showed up with nothing.”

“Showing up doesn’t count?” Jonghyun retorts. “I’ll have to remember that next time.”

He’s barely finished his sentence when Kibum counters with, “Minho already showed up last run and he bought your tickets. The thought is worth double points and the flowers are half points, so he’s at three point five and you two are at one.”

Taemin can’t lie and say he thought of Kibum. He’s not even thinking of him right now. He only realizes he’s staring when Jonghyun catches his eye, and then it’s too much to look away. Jonghyun rubs Taemin’s back and says in a voice even gentler than his hand, “Should we just go home, Taemin-ah~?”

“It’s not like I’d notice. I won’t even be able to pick you two out. It’s a full house tonight and you finally got rid of that blond,” Kibum shoots back, even though no one asked him. Taemin is being awful. Any other time he’d be ganging up with him against Jonghyun, and this is supposed to be Kibum’s day. When Taemin tries smiling at him Kibum cracks in under a second, smiling back.

“Too late, anyway,” Taemin says. “We’re stuck here.”

Kibum laughs like he’s supposed to. More talking, more laughing, until Kibum says, “I was serious before, I have no time. Don’t bother coming back to see me when it’s over, either, okay? We’re having a cast party. Just text me later.”

And then Kibum asks where their seats are, and the only thing that could tell him is their tickets, because Taemin has no idea. He’d spend the whole play searching for them in Jonghyun’s coat, too, if it weren’t for Jonghyun laughing at him and reaching for Taemin like he’s going to check his pants pockets. Which, no, not here, not under Jonghyun’s dark dark eyes, not with Kibum shaking his head at him. Taemin can do it. He digs deep and finds them crumpled up in his back pocket. Kibum clicks his tongue and smooths them flat tells them where to go, and Jonghyun passes his hand down Taemin’s spine to rest it on the small of Taemin’s back, and Taemin remembers he has legs before Jonghyun has to give him a push or something.

When his butt finally hits his seat he’s not sure he’ll be able to get up again. They’re trapped, anyway. They had to squeeze past five people to get here, and there are at least ten on their other side. Smart phones, murmured conversations, muffled laughter, a stolen kiss. Taemin cuts his eyes away before they see him looking, maybe look back. He looks at them and sees nothing but couples. If they looked at him and Jonghyun, what would they see? Shinee’s Jonghyun and Shinee’s Taemin? Or just two guys who couldn’t find a date, both each other’s last choice. Maybe this was a mistake.

“Did you put on makeup?”

Taemin jumps at the sound of Jonghyun’s voice in his ear. Jonghyun is still drawing away when Taemin turns to him, face so close Taemin can smell his breath. Mint. Yongdeok hyung keeps a box of them in the glove compartment of the van, and the first week after promotions ended, Taemin’s mom found more in Taemin’s pockets every time she did the laundry.

Anyway. “Maybe I should have?”

Almost before he finishes Jonghyun is shaking his head. “You don’t need it.” Jonghyun hesitates, then leans in again. Murmurs, “Your lips looked like you might have gloss on, is all.”

“Chapstick. You want some?”

“Mm.”

That means digging in his pockets again, but even when he finds it, little tube squashed against his thigh, Jonghyun won’t take it. Just sits there and smirks at Taemin, dark eyes lingering on Taemin’s mouth, look like a kiss.

“You’re so weird, hyung.”

Taemin’s weirder. Still, he might not be the only one whose heart is pounding. He folds his hands together in his lap before he does something crazy like hang onto Jonghyun for dear life.

“If you don’t like my hair it’s okay to tell me, it’s not too late to change it again,” Jonghyun says next, of all things. “My photoshoot isn’t until next week.”

The girl on Jonghyun’s other side glances up at him at the word photoshoot. What is Taemin supposed to do with him? But it’s just a second, and then she goes back to her phone, and Taemin leans in to say in Jonghyun’s ear, so quietly he can barely hear himself, “I like it. I forgot what you looked like with it dark, is all.”

When he pulls away the only person even looking at him is Jonghyun. “I look older, right?”

“Mm, you look old.”

Jonghyun doesn’t fall for it, just goes on casually, “And sexier.” He sneaks a hand into Taemin’s hair, playing with it. Taemin tenses against the flinch crawling up his spine, but then Jonghyun’s fingers close over the nape of his neck and it just disappears, along with every bone in his body. “Hmm?”

Someone in the next row laughs, and the person in front of them is taking a selca. Maybe he and Jonghyun are in it. Taemin keeps his eyes on Jonghyun’s face right up until his lips are pressed to Jonghyun’s ear again. “Sexy, no er. I liked you the same before.”

Out of nowhere the lights dim and the conversation around them begins to die. Taemin will look away when Jonghyun does. But just for now, just this one tiny moment, it’s just the two of them.

“And you’ll like me the same after this, too?” Jonghyun says.

If they get out of this alive. They’re surrounded on all sides by couples and strangers and girls who might be Shawols. People who don’t care, people who love Taemin for no reason, people who love Jonghyun more, or Kibum—all people who might hate Taemin if they could look inside his head, or feel how hard his heart is beating right now. And yet somehow, Taemin thinks he could stay right here forever. Jonghyun’s thigh pressing into his, Jonghyun’s voice in his ear, the rest of the world gone quiet and still. But in a minute Kibum will be on that stage, and there’ll be music and laughter and other things. Good things. And Jonghyun will be right here with him the whole time. Taemin gathers up his courage and reaches for him, curling his fingers around Jonghyun’s sleeve so that his knuckles just barely brush the skin of Jonghyun’s wrist.

“Mm.”

 

The way back to the car seems shorter than the way to the theater did, and between Jonghyun’s coat and the six thousand times he catches Jonghyun staring, the night is so much warmer. Jonghyun asks Taemin if he wants food, but Taemin just wants him.

“Home, Taeminnie?”

“Mm.”

Jonghyun drives. The city flies by and the dorm is dark when they come in. Jonghyun says he’ll shower in the morning, so Taemin guesses he will too. They pass Jinki’s shut door on their way into their room, and once Taemin shuts theirs too, just like that, they’re the only two people in the world.

Finally.

“What was your favorite part?”

Taemin pauses halfway through pulling his shirt over his head, watching Jonghyun watch him from where he’s sprawled out over Taemin’s bed fully dressed, working one sock off with his other foot. It takes him a little too long to drag his gaze up Taemin’s body to his face, but then eye contact doesn’t help at all.

“I don’t know,” Taemin confesses. “I can’t remember anything.”

Jonghyun half smiles, half smirks as Taemin steps out of his pants and underwear. “I can’t either, all of the sudden.”

Jonghyun’s still working on his shirt when Taemin gets the light. Once Taemin climbs over him to lie along his side he gives up entirely, lying still under Taemin’s hands, watching Taemin as he takes over.

“I liked Kibum hyung’s parts,” Taemin says, instead of leaning in and licking the mole below Jonghyun’s collarbones the way he suddenly wants to.

“I like you,” Jonghyun replies, reaching up to caress Taemin’s cheek, letting his fingers trail down Taemin’s neck, making Taemin fumble the next button, before his hand lands with a whump on the bed again. “I don’t know how they ended up giving him so many high notes. At first he told me he was happy they wrote in his range for once.”

“When was that, this summer?”

“That’s not that long ago.”

It is for Taemin. Right now it feels like his whole life is split between before Jonghyun first kissed him and after their first night together. And all the time lost in the middle is just stuff he doesn’t think about.

Taemin pulls Jonghyun’s shirt out of his waistband. Jonghyun twists this way and that working the sleeves down his arms, everything but sitting up. He should look stupid but he looks stupidly hot instead, muscles rippling under firm smooth skin, abs rising and falling at Taemin’s fingertips until he reaches Jonghyun’s belt buckle, cool and hard. “How was practice? You never said.”

“The band came in today so we worked on that. I never want to hear ‘Crazy’ again, it’s still stuck in my head right now. _She’s making me craaaazy, I’m so into you.”_ And suddenly Taemin doesn’t want to hear it either. Jonghyun goes back to talking. “Taemin-ah.”

“Mm,” Taemin grunts, busy with Jonghyun’s belt, busier ignoring the growing bulge in Jonghyun’s pants and the thick heat pooling in his own stomach.

“You looked really pretty tonight.”

“Looked?”

Taemin shoots Jonghyun a look and Jonghyun leers at him in response. Just for a few seconds, and then his face rearranges itself, and he’s left staring up at Taemin, tiniest smile on his lips. “You should’ve left the light on. I barely got to look at you.” His smile widens. “What about me, how did I look?”

Is he asking about his hair again? Taemin slides his belt free and jerks his fly open. He hooks his fingers in the waistband of Jonghyun’s briefs and tugs until he lifts his butt, and just like that, his pants are around his knees and his dick is out, thick and flush with blood, half-hard under Taemin’s eyes. He presses his thumb against the slit and Jonghyun’s breathing hitches, and next second Jonghyun’s hand is in his hair and he’s dragged Taemin’s mouth down to his and pushed his tongue inside, hot and wet and deep. And it’s okay if just one kiss has Taemin confessing, “I wanted to fuck in SM’s parking lot.”

“Taemin-ah.”

“You looked nice, hyung.” Why is he explaining himself to Jonghyun when it’s all his fault. Why is he even talking, when all he has to do is slide down Jonghyun’s body and he could take him in his mouth and feel him grow hard. But Jonghyun catches Taemin, holding his face in both hands, and somehow more words spill out of him. “I’m glad we didn’t, I’m glad we went, but I needed it.”

_I need you._

“Taemin-ah.” Jonghyun holds his eyes. “Taeminnie. I wouldn’t do ‘Crazy’ if it was about her. It was, but only at first. Now it’s you.”

“I’m sexy and dangerous? You’ll get hurt if you stay with me?”

“Taemin-ah~”

Taemin draws away, working Jonghyun’s pants the rest of the way down his legs, then stretching to pluck the blanket from under Jonghyun’s feet. He pulls it over them both, laying himself down next to Jonghyun again, heart full, dick half-hard. Jonghyun rolls onto his side and nestles in closer, skating his fingers up and down Taemin’s arm. If Taemin just closed those last few inches, pushed his thigh between Jonghyun’s and stuck his tongue in his mouth, they wouldn’t have to have this conversation. But he just lies there and stares into Jonghyun’s face instead. They’re having it.

“You’re risking everything to be with me. I’m not stupid, I know that,” Taemin says with difficulty. “I just wish I didn’t, sometimes.”

“I’m not the only one, Taeminnie.”

Jonghyun presses in for a kiss, there and gone. Taemin slips his hand into Jonghyun’s hair and pulls him back in, soft and slow, so sweet Taemin aches deep inside. It fades when he presses his teeth into Jonghyun’s bottom lip, winds his fingers into Jonghyun’s hair and pulls, but then Jonghyun makes this tiny helpless noise, and it takes Taemin over, pleasure-pain everywhere Jonghyun’s touching him.

Through it, he says, “As long as I have you I’m okay.”

“I am too,” Jonghyun tells him. “I told you once before, but I should be telling you every day. You give me this holy feeling.” Something in Taemin’s face makes him say, “You think I’m being embarrassing.”

Taemin thinks Jonghyun’s being himself, which doesn’t explain why his ears are burning hotter than the rest of his body and he has to turn his face into the pillow and tell Jonghyun, “You do tell me. Just not with words.”

“Never mind. Even you don’t want to hear it.” Before Jonghyun flops on his back, before the mattress creaks and sighs under Jonghyun’s weight and his warmth fades, Taemin hooks his leg around Jonghyun’s waist and his arm around his shoulders. The last thing is looking him in the eye. Jonghyun looks back. Looks and looks. “Somehow this is forbidden love. You keep me sane and I have to keep you a secret.”

“I thought I made you crazy.”

“That too,” Jonghyun agrees, reaching up to pinch Taemin’s cheek, before cupping it. “I want you all the time, and most of it I can’t have you.”

“It’s not easier when you’re busy?” Jonghyun shakes his head under Taemin’s hand, soft dark hair slipping through Taemin’s fingers. “I thought it would be. I thought when Shinee came back and I had something to do, I’d get better at thinking about other things again. I guess maybe not?”

“We’ll be together then,” Jonghyun reminds him. He noses in for something so close to a kiss Taemin can taste it, breathing mingles, lips brushing with each word. A little closer and maybe Taemin could catch them on his tongue. “Even if we’ll never get any time alone.”

Taemin licks the corner of Jonghyun’s mouth, just to see it crook up as he pulls back. Jonghyun chases him, lips on Taemin’s, laughter in his mouth, his thigh cradled between Taemin’s, warm and firm against Taemin’s dick. It takes so much just to keep his hips still, keep breathing Jonghyun in, lie there and grow hard and let himself feel all these things, burn tonight into his skin. Work up his courage, just to say, “I was thinking…it should be okay if we do this again. Go out, I mean.”

One last kiss, tongue touched to Taemin’s, and Jonghyun draws away to give him a look that makes Taemin’s heart skip a beat, because he can’t read it. Is he being stupid? If he is, Jonghyun can just tell him.

“We are dating, right?” Jonghyun says. “You’re not just using me for sex~?”

“I mean, even if we get caught, it should be okay,” Taemin says. “When Dispatch followed me and Jonginnie, everyone took it as a joke.”

Almost before Taemin’s finished, Jonghyun comes back at him with, “You mean if people saw us together they’d just laugh at us.” _Is that so bad?_ Taemin bites it back, but it must show on his face all the same, because Jonghyun tries again. “They wouldn’t take us seriously, they’d just see what they want to see. Not a couple, just two men.”

“As long as we don’t kiss or hold hands.” Taemin sweeps Jonghyun’s hair out of his face and lays his hand over his cheek, finger pressing into the corner of Jonghyun’s eye. Finally Jonghyun blinks. “Though holding hands doesn’t have to mean anything, either. We used to sometimes, when we went home from training in the dark. Remember?”

Jonghyun lays his hand over Taemin’s, lacing their fingers together and pulling it to his lips. Then, dark eyes, each word hot against his skin, “You’re okay with that?”

“I don’t care what it looks like to anyone else.”

Taemin pulls Jonghyun’s hand to his body and holds it in both of his, flattening it against his skin and dragging it down his chest and stomach to press it to his dick. Just one touch, and just like that, Taemin is all the way there, so hard for him, so desperate he can barely breathe. Last thing he knows Jonghyun’s eyes darken, and then he has Taemin by his hair, head yanked back, and his teeth in his neck, and all Taemin can hear is himself, breathless, no words, something so close to a moan. And then Jonghyun pushes his tongue against Taemin’s skin and sucks, hot and wet and _oh God, please, hyung. Jonghyunnie hyung._

Jonghyun lifts away, finding Taemin’s eyes with his. Squeezing his dick. “Am I a man to you, or just hyung?”

Taemin’s hips move on their own, no relief, just Jonghyun’s hand, big and rough and warm, holding Taemin together while his eyes take Taemin apart. Dizzy, too-hot, Taemin lets Jonghyun look, lets him look and look and look, when all he wants to do is trap Jonghyun with his legs and arms, hold him so close there’s no air between them, just skin-on-skin, take his dick and keep it inside him forever.

“Both,” Taemin tells him. He strains against Jonghyun’s hold on his hair, pressing a kiss to Jonghyun’s mouth. “Everything.”

Jonghyun lifts away instead of falling into it like he was supposed to, plays with Taemin’s hair instead of pulling it, _takes his hand away._ Taemin is one second from climbing on top of him and taking everything he wants, but in the next, Jonghyun’s hand slides down to his shoulder, rolling Taemin onto his side and pulling him back into his arms so they’re pressed together everywhere. Jonghyun’s lips against his nape, his chest pressed to Taemin’s back, ankle crossed over Taemin’s, his palm spread over Taemin’s stomach, so close to where Taemin wants it, closer when Taemin grabs it in both of his and drags it down, _closer closer closer,_ until Jonghyun pushes his dick between his thighs and all the strength goes out of Taemin’s arms. Hard and thick and hot, rubbing against his skin, setting fire to it, and maybe if Taemin threw the blanket back he could see the head poking out on the other side. Fuck. Taemin crosses his legs, closing them, whole body tightening around Jonghyun’s dick, squeezing out this low moan Taemin just barely breaks between his teeth, full and empty and oh fuck, he wants it. He needs it. He rocks back against Jonghyun, wiggling his hips, pushing his ass against the base of Jonghyun’s dick, hole clenching around nothing. Jonghyun’s teeth sink into Taemin’s neck and his hand clamps over his hip, and then he _moves._

“Hyung, please. Please, I need you.” Taemin’s voice starts out in a whisper and breaks into a whine, sending his face hot. “Fuck me.” Jonghyun fucks him harder, if that’s what this is, fucking, until Taemin’s thighs are slick with sweat and Jonghyun’s precome, Jonghyun’s dick so hard and thick between his thighs he just wants it inside him more. “I want you inside me,” Taemin tries. No good. Taemin can do better. He has to or he’ll die. “I want your dick. Give it to me. Put in me. Fuck—” He shifts his hips just right or Jonghyun does, but that’s Jonghyun’s dick pressed to his hole. “Fuck me,” Taemin pants. “Lube, hyung. Hurry up if you don’t wanna hurt me,” because otherwise Taemin is just going to take his dick, split himself open, inch by inch. Just the tip, just barely pressing into him, and Taemin’s whole body burns at the stretch.

Jonghyun full body shivers behind him, saying, “Taeminnie. Taeminnie, wait,” then leaving him cold. Something crashes to the floor, hopefully not Taemin’s clock, and then Taemin hears the bottle snap open, hears Jonghyun’s breathing hiss, slick sounds, before Jonghyun's fist meets Taemin’s ass, wrapped around his own dick. Each new thing twists him tighter and tighter and tighter, until finally, suddenly, he has Jonghyun inside him, one long smooth thrust that fills Taemin to bursting. Jonghyun puts his hand over Taemin’s mouth, too late to cover his cry.

They both freeze. And for one long moment, inside Taemin and out, up and down the halls of the dorm, silence.

“Hyung must have his headphones in. That or he went to bed,” Jonghyun says into Taemin’s hair.

Taemin’s heart kicks back in, blood split between his dick and his face. He should work on trying to breathe next, mouth open and panting against Jonghyun’s palm, but there’s no room for air inside him, just Jonghyun.

“Hyung.” For the longest time it’s the only word Taemin knows. “If we don’t tell them they’ll find out like this.”

Jonghyun pulls out, leaving Taemin empty, clenching around the head, before he pushes back in, slow and sure. His hand finds Taemin’s. “Them finding out like this would be worse than telling?”

Taemin holds onto him with all he’s got. “Yes?” he just barely gets out, before Jonghyun hits that spot inside him and everything burns away. Words, space, time, Taemin’s day, Jonghyun’s, this whole night, every single thing that doesn’t mean more or please or I’m so close. Jonghyun tips his head back for a kiss, tongue and teeth, and Taemin barely wraps his hand around himself before Jonghyun’s hand covers his and Taemin is coming over it. Jonghyun gasps against his lips, hips jerking as Taemin tightens around him, until finally Taemin feels it, hot and wet and deep inside him. His whole day led up to this.

When Jonghyun can speak again, it’s not _I love you_ or _You’re so beautiful, baby,_ or _I’m just getting a washcloth, Taemin-ah, just a second._ It’s, “Either way they find out, it’d be bad. Is that what you meant, Taeminnie?”

Taemin turns in his arms, just enough to look at him. Just enough that Jonghyun’s dick shifts inside him, too, still half-hard, bright hot pleasure-pain that lingers under Taemin’s skin. Jonghyun leans in to kiss it away, but Taemin winds his fingers in his hair and holds him back, holds his eyes.

“It took me years just to tell you guys about myself, it’s only been a few weeks for you. Doesn’t it bother you at all?”

“That you’re a man?”

“Mm.”

“I love you,” Jonghyun says. Like that’s all there is to say.

Taemin loves him back, so much it hurts. “I know, hyung.”

“I just came inside you. Do you think hyung is confused or something?” He tests Taemin’s hold, dropping a kiss on Taemin’s lips. When he lifts away there’s this smile on his face, shy and secret. “I’m not, Taemin-ah. And I’m not ashamed, either. If I could tell the whole world you’re mine I would, but then they’d all die of jealousy.”

And just like that, Taemin can’t look anymore. When he settles back down Jonghyun rearranges him immediately, winding his arm around Taemin’s waist and pulling him in against him, nosing into his hair, and it’s all Taemin can do to just lie there, tender and raw, too-sensitive, halfway wishing he could bring Jonghyun to hardness again. Bring him off, again. Jonghyun picks up Taemin’s hand and plays with his fingers.

“It doesn’t feel weird to you? Being so cheesy. It’s me, hyung.”

“It’s you so it’s not weird,” Jonghyun retorts. “It’s not weird to me when you say ‘hyung, fuck me.’” He puts on this stupid voice, high and breathy, “Hyung, please. I need you inside me. I want your dick. Let me come, hyung. Hyung!”

Taemin’s too comfortable to body slam Jonghyun, so he elbows him in the ribs instead, as hard as he dares. “I don’t sound like that.”

Too hard? Taemin fumbles for Jonghyun’s hand and laces their fingers together, before Jonghyun can roll over, away from Taemin and out of danger. Slip out from inside him. When Taemin nestles back against him Jonghyun groans helplessly, hand tightening around Taemin’s, breath gusting against the nape of Taemin’s neck. And as soon as he gets his voice back he tells Taemin, “No, you sound like you. The night you turned me down—”

“You can forget about that now, hyung. I’m going to.”

“That night,” Jonghyun continues gently, “you told me that you wished you could make me see myself the way you do. I wish I could do that for you, too. You’re so beautiful.”

“I know.”

“Not just your face or your body. Inside, Taeminnie.”

“I know~” Taemin repeats, tightening around him. Jonghyun half laughs, half groans against his neck.

“I can’t put you into words, but I keep trying.”

“I don’t try with you,” Taemin says shyly. “You know everything.”

“What do I know?” Jonghyun presses kisses to Taemin’s nape, the knob of Taemin’s spine. Scrapes his teeth across his skin. “Hmmm? Taeminnie?”

“That I love you.” There’s so much more, so many places inside him only Jonghyun has ever touched, but that’s all Taemin knows to say. “Anyway, it’s more like not telling feels like lying.”

“I wanted to tell Kibummie tonight,” Jonghyun confesses. “I wanted Jinki hyung to hear just now.”

Taemin goes hot, dick stirring, Jonghyun’s still so thick and hot inside him. Too soon. Too much. “I did too.”

“Until you came.”

“Mm.”

That’s only half a lie, half really, really not, but then Jonghyun puts his whole heart out for Taemin to take and tells him, “Half of me still hopes he did.”

Taemin’s beats a little faster. “And the other half?” he asks, even though he knows the answer. It’s inside him, too. _I don’t want them to look at us any differently. I don’t want to make things harder on them. I don’t want them to tell us we’re being crazy, we’re risking too much, what are we going to tell our parents._ “Let’s tell, hyung,” Taemin says in a painful rush. “I want to. I don’t know when a good time would be. After promotions? If it goes badly—”

“It won’t, Taemin-ah,” Jonghyun tells him. “Things aren’t the same as before, we all have our own lives now.”

As much of a life as this job will give them.

“Wake me up tomorrow.”

“Sleep, Taeminnie.”

Before Jonghyun can slip out of him, before he can even think about it, Taemin pushes back into the cradle of his hips, tightening around him again, Jonghyun’s dick and his come and just, “I want to wake up like this. Please?”

When Taemin closes his eyes nothing changes. Jonghyun stays with him.

 

Taemin hears him first. Bumbling around, thump, hissed breath, footsteps, then the water running. When it cuts off he knows he’s out of time. If Taemin’s good, gets his eyes open before the footsteps take him into the closet and clothes whisper over skin, he might even see him naked. Maybe not. But he left his watch and his wallet and his phone on the nightstand and he left Taemin in his bed. He’ll take one last look. If Taemin just opens his eyes, he’ll get to see him. Right now.

Jonghyun.

“Go back to sleep,” Jonghyun murmurs. He plants one hand in the mattress and leans down to kiss Taemin’s cheek. Taemin turns into it, pressing his lips to Jonghyun’s. For one second everything is soft and sweet and melty, but just as his eyes slip closed again and he sinks his hand into Jonghyun’s hair Jonghyun lifts away. Taemin could pull, drag him back down into bed with him, but instead he lets him go.

It’s easier to open his eyes the second time. “Is Yongdeok hyung taking you?”

“Mm.” Jonghyun leans down again and presses another quick kiss into his hair. “See you tonight, baby.”

Taemin pushes himself up and throws back the blanket. “I can say hello. I haven’t seen him in forever.”

Jonghyun waits for him in silence while he gets dressed, eyes warm on Taemin’s skin. His hand finds Taemin’s on the way to the door of the dorm, and he won’t let Taemin out of it until he’s put his jacket on. When he pulls Taemin past the elevator to the stairwell Taemin’s heart does this weird lurching thing, following Jonghyun down, down, down. Their footsteps clatter and echo, but each door they pass on the landings stays shut. Taemin doesn’t have to let Jonghyun’s hand go until they hit the parking lot, so he doesn’t.

“What’re you doing today?” Taemin asks finally.

“Practice. Meeting with Creative about the MV, they hired a PD. Then more practice.”

“And then Blue Night.”

“And then you,” Jonghyun corrects him, reaching up to brush his knuckle over Taemin’s nose. “It’s the weekend, remember.”

“How do you still have time to prerecord?”

“It won’t get that bad until promotions. What about you, what’re you going to do?”

“I don’t know. Eat and sleep.”

“That’s it?”

That’s the whole truth, but Jonghyun makes a face at him as they hit the doors and step out into the growing light. There’s no one out here, either.

“Eat with Kwonho probably, and then sleep with you,” Taemin says out loud. He was aiming for dirty, but instead it puts this smile on Jonghyun’s face, all soft and secret, and Taemin doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with that, or himself. But he lets Jonghyun draw his hand into his pocket, gentle and warm, lets Jonghyun tug him forward, lead him over the pavement. Hopefully Jonghyun remembers where he parked, because Taemin barely remembers how to walk all of the sudden. “Are you getting enough? Sleep, I mean.”

“Mm.”

Really? When Taemin sneaks a glance at him Jonghyun catches him at it, catches his eye.

“You look tired, hyung.”

“You do too.”

There’s that stupid smile in his voice, one from years and years ago. _Isn’t Taeminnie cute~._ Did Taemin put his shirt on backwards or something? His pant leg isn’t tucked into his sock. It’s probably his bed hair. Whatever, Jonghyun’s the one who messed it up last night, pulling it, playing with it. He’s the one who said not to cut it, that he likes it. Taemin just likes him.

“We don’t have to fuck when you’re tired. I can live without for a night.”

Taemin’s ears can stop burning anytime. Where is Jonghyun’s parking spot again?

“I can’t, though,” Jonghyun says. He stops short, tugging Taemin around to face him. The sun is rising on Jonghyun, shining in his hair, kissing his skin, but it can’t chase away the shadows under his eyes. Taemin wishes he could, somehow. “If I fell asleep right away I’d just wake up to this part, and then everything else would be worse because I’d miss you. I know you don’t like it when I say things like this, but I always mean it.” He holds Taemin’s eyes, holds his hand, half nervy, half shy. “The only thing that gets me through the day is knowing you’re at the end of it.”

This part. Goodbye. Someone should tell Jonghyun if they spend less than a day apart it doesn’t count, that’s just called having a life. Someone besides Taemin, because he gets it. He feels the same.

“Work hard, hyung,” Taemin says, and leans in and kisses him.

Jonghyun gasps, breath puffing against Taemin’s lips, hand squeezing Taemin’s so tight it almost hurts. Taemin holds on. Closes his eyes. He feels Jonghyun’s smile as it forms and swallows the noise Jonghyun makes, this weird half-laugh, half-groan, like bubbles in Taemin’s stomach. If he keeps it inside him maybe it’ll last until later, when he’s alone. But right now. Jonghyun’s mouth on his, soft and slow, Jonghyun’s hand cupping his cheek, warm and big and kinda rough, Jonghyun’s hair through his fingers. Jonghyun, pressed in as close as Taemin’s puffy jacket will let him, warm and solid and here.

_Jonghyun hyung._

“Kim Jonghyun!”

Taemin’s eyes fly open.

Dahae.


	13. Chapter 13

“You look tired, hyung.”

Probably because Jonghyun is. The only thing keeping him upright is Taemin’s hand in his, so small and soft and warm. That and the look Taemin shoots him, like he’s just daring Jonghyun to lie and tell him he’s not. And the hair sticking up at the back of Taemin’s head, his crooked glasses, his bare feet sliding around in Jinki’s slippers. Jonghyun was so busy making sure he wore a coat he forgot to check that he had socks on.

Jonghyun bites back his smile. “You do too.”

He pulls Taemin across the parking lot, towards the gate where the van usually pulls up. Taemin shuffles after him, ears glowing red, eyes anywhere but Jonghyun’s face. Is he looking for Jonghyun’s car or something? Jonghyun told him five minutes ago Yongdeok hyung was picking him up. He acted like was coming out here to say hi to him, too, not to send Jonghyun off. He’s so cute.

Finally Taemin comes out with it. “We don’t have to fuck when you’re tired. I can live without for a night.”

What?

“I can’t, though,” Jonghyun says without thinking, but then he does. About Taemin last night, his eye smile, his pretty hands unbuttoning Jonghyun’s shirt, his soft soft thighs and tight little hole, all the stupid things he said. Like _I love you_ for example. And he thinks about Taemin right now, squinting in the half-light, half asleep probably. It takes Taemin a few steps to figure out they’re not going anywhere, but he lets Jonghyun bring him around to face him. “If I fell asleep right away I’d just wake up to this part, and then everything else would be worse because I’d miss you. I know you don’t like it when I say things like this, but I always mean it.” And Jonghyun does, more than anything. It’s just that saying it out loud, looking into Taemin’s eyes, is sweet torture. He hangs onto him, threading their fingers together. “The only thing that gets me through the day is knowing you’re at the end of it.”

For one long moment, Taemin just looks back at him, so pretty in the morning light.

“Work hard, hyung,” he says, and next thing Jonghyun knows he has Taemin’s lips pressed against his, soft and full, and this is a kiss. The sun is rising and there are like fifty cars parked out here, fifty people on their way to work who could walk out those doors and see them, and Taemin’s eyes are shut tight.

Jonghyun kisses Taemin back. For real. Slow and soft, cupping Taemin’s face, pressing in closer, until Taemin’s warmth spreads all the way to Jonghyun’s toes, until Taemin sighs into his mouth and his fingers unclench in Jonghyun’s hair and he makes this soft happy noise and maybe Jonghyun’s heart explodes—

“Kim Jonghyun!”

It stops.

_Hong Dahae._

It’s less real than Taemin kissing him in the daylight, her voice. _Her,_ running across the pavement towards them, but then next second Taemin is ripped from him and all Jonghyun knows is this terrible burning thing rising up in him, “Dahae, what.” He doesn’t feel the first blow, the second the third the fourth, until she heaves back and her bag hits his face, huge and leather and pink, cosmetics pelting the pavement like bullets, but not his teeth. She didn’t hit him that hard, he’s okay. He’s not. He can’t see, vision swimming, stomach turned inside out, months of his life coming up his throat, he’s going to be sick. He can’t see and he can’t feel but he can hear.

“Fucking BASTARD! I fucking knew it, I knew it, you fucking lying piece of shit, you fucking _faggot.”_

“Dahae, calm down,” she gets out of him, hitting him and hitting him and hitting him, “Dahae. Dahae, STOP.”

“Dahae, Dahae, Dahae. Get my name out of your dirty fucking mouth!”

She’s right. Taemin. _Taeminnie._ Taemin pushes past Jonghyun, and for one second his insides go black with fear, before his hand finds Taemin’s wrist and Taemin finds his voice. “Leave him alone.” It’s shaking as hard as Taemin is. When Jonghyun drags Taemin behind him Taemin fights him with each step, tripping over himself, yanking against Jonghyun’s grip. Jonghyun’s muscles were just for show, for Taemin to go crazy wanting him, not _this._ This isn’t why he worked out all those nights he could’ve spent in Taemin’s arms, fucked him longer and harder or just lain there and stroked his hair and tried to coax words out of him.

The only word Jonghyun knows now is, “Taeminnie.” Each breath is like a knife between his ribs. “Go back inside, hyung is fine. Go on, Taeminnie. _Go.”_

Taemin doesn’t move, so Jonghyun makes him, shoving him back, sending his slippers scraping across the pavement, before Dahae is on him again.

“Does he fuck you up the ass, Taeminnie?” Dahae hurls over Jonghyun’s shoulder. “I let him fuck mine.”

She screams with laughter, sharper than broken glass, but his name is enough, she’s not touching him. She’s not getting past Jonghyun. Jonghyun doesn’t give a fuck what she tries, eyes burning in her head, hands like claws, jerking against his hold on her wrists. “Dahae, stop, please, he didn’t do anything, it was me—“

“You thought of him, didn’t you,” she rages breathlessly. “You fucked me and you thought of him. Fuck. You. You dickless piece of shit. You’re disgusting.” Suddenly she pushes where she pulled, sunshine yellow nails digging into his chest, stabbing his heart, sending him staggering into Taemin. But he can’t let go of her. He can’t he can’t he can’t. “Is this going in anywhere, do you understand Korean? Do you understand reality?” Dahae gathers the last of her strength and wrenches out of his grip, spitting hair out of her mouth, sobbing for breath. “He’s not a girl. He looks like one but he’s not. I don’t care how pretty he is, he has a dick under there. Has he fucked you with it?” Her palm stings his face and pricks his eyes. “I asked you a question, now answer me.” Again, harder this time, louder, sound of his skin echoing across the parking lot, and somehow his tears hurt more. _I told you to go back inside, Taemin-ah. I told you._ “It’s not that hard, Jonghyunnie. Just answer me. I said _has he fucked you?!”_

“LEAVE HYUNG ALONE!”

Next thing Jonghyun knows Taemin’s stepped in front of him, putting his body between him and Dahae. Before he can grab Taemin and carry him back inside and keep him there, throw himself against the door, before he can even move, do SOMETHING, Dahae’s eyes flash and she snarls, “You little whore,” and she has him by the hair, ripping a cry out of him, low and pained.

“No. Not Taeminnie, Dahae, don’t. It’s me, he didn’t know any better—“

“You saw, I kissed him,” Taemin says loudly, staring her right in the face. “We fucked last night. We do every night.”

Jonghyun could grind the bones of her wrist to dust, yell in her face, fall to his knees and beg, and she’d only hurt Taemin more. He tries to pry her fingers apart and she twists them up tighter and wrenches away, dragging Taemin with her, one slipper skittering across the pavement behind him.

“He’ll just get tired of you faster. What is there for him to hold onto.” She grabs at Taemin’s chest, working her fingers under Taemin’s arms crossed over it, twisting his nipple through his shirt, twisting this noise out of him that tears Jonghyun’s heart in two. “Are you even a man, you’re built like a little girl.”

“Stop, you’re hurting him. STOP.”

She goes for Taemin’s crotch. Jonghyun goes for whatever he can reach, her elbow, jerking her away so hard she stumbles back and almost falls, but she hangs on, snapping Taemin in half and sending him careening into Jonghyun, knocking, “I love hyung,” out of him. He’s stepping on Jonghyun’s foot and his is bare, red and raw, toenails tinged blue. “If you did you’d leave him be. All you do is hurt him.”

“Love hurts,” she says, breathing hard. “Do you even know how much he hurt me? Do you think I don’t feel pain? It fucking hurts!”

“Dahae, you’re hurting him, stop, please, we can talk, I’ll listen to you, but let go.”

“She has nothing to say to you, hyung,” Taemin bursts out, “she has no fucking right.”

“And what right do you think you have?”

Dahae twists her wrist in Jonghyun’s grip, yanking at Taemin. Somehow Jonghyun’s still breathing, because that’s his voice rising, “Dahae, please, stop. Please, Dahae, please. Not him, me. Just let Taeminnie go.”

But she won’t and it’s like she has ten hands, as soon as Jonghyun pries one out of Taemin’s hair it’s back, knuckles bone white, nails digging into her own flesh, and still Taemin tells Jonghyun, tells the pavement, their shadows, his glasses lying broken on the pavement, because she’s yanked him down again—“I’m fine, hyung. You are too. Tell her.”

“You’re fine and I’m fine and Jonghyunnie’s fine and we’re all fucking fine. You lying little bitch, you looked me in my face and you stole him from me,” flies out of Dahae in this inhuman shriek, this voice that shatters over Jonghyun, sharp tiny pieces everywhere, his skin, his lungs, his heart, but Taemin. _Taeminnie._

“He isn’t yours. He isn’t a thing. Stop treating hyung like a thing.”

“Do you call him that in bed? Jonghyunnie hyung? How disgusting. You should hear yourself, you dirty fucking freak. You WHORE.” _Shut up shut up SHUT UP._ “I should drag you naked through the streets. You think I can’t?”

“Let him go, you crazy bitch,” and that word is ash on Jonghyun’s tongue but all he tastes is desperation. He can say worse, he can do worse if she doesn’t fucking LET GO, at least he could if his body weren’t breaking down, if his voice weren’t breaking, “This isn’t Joseon, it’s 2014—”

“Right, it’s 2014 in the Republic of Korea and gay rights are shit. You’re shit. Take him home to your mother and see what she thinks of you.”

“STOP.”

Jonghyun yanks her free but all that gets him is Taemin’s pained yell and Dahae biting hers back, mouth twisting, black eyes burning him to ash, the tears standing in them, her heel stabbing his toes, tiny fists raining down on him, her palms planted in his chest like claws in his heart. Next thing Jonghyun knows the pavement comes rushing up to meet him, jarring all the bones in his body, knocking the air out of his lungs, and his knees are split open and blood blooms in his mouth, must have bit his tongue, and it hurts. Everything hurts.

“Hyung!”

 _Taeminnie._ He has to get up. He tries to breathe and it comes out as a sob.

“Taemin-ah!”

Jonghyun didn’t say it. Jinki. Sprinting across the lot towards them, blurry through Jonghyun’s tears, but Jinki. He clips Jonghyun’s shoulder on his way past, leaving him dizzy, leaving the words spinning around and around in Jonghyun’s head, “Hyung, please, Taeminnie. Take him back inside.”

_Get up, you fucking loser. Get UP._

Except the next time he tries there’s a hand on his shoulder, taking his elbow, leading him away from Taemin and Dahae, Yongdeok hyung’s voice telling him, “It’s okay, Jonghyunnie. It’s fine.” It’s not. How could it be? But then he’s on his ass again, the curb of the sidewalk this time. “You stay over here. I’ll be right back.” When Jonghyun tries to get up there’s that hand again, pushing him down. “Seriously. Stay. You’ll make it worse.”

That’s all Jonghyun ever does. And nothing gets better while he’s sitting here. He just sits and cries. When he brushes his tears away he just grinds grit into his eyes, palms dirty as the rest of him. _You should hear yourself, you dirty fucking freak._ “Oh God, Taeminnie.”

Another hand, thumping his back, squeezing his shoulder.

“Jonghyunnie?” Jinki says, so gently he could kill someone. And then—

“Jonghyunnie hyung.”

By the time Jonghyun gets his eyes open all he can see is Taemin’s jacket, purple and scratchy against his cheek. He squeezes them shut tight, squeezes Taemin even tighter, warm and soft and whole under Jonghyun’s hands. Finally Taemin sinks down next to him, petting Jonghyun’s hair, patting his back, murmuring nonsense like “It’s fine,” and “You’re gonna be okay,” and “She didn’t make me bald, it’s okay to look at me.”

_Taeminnie._

And when Taemin gives up on words, just holds him, all Jonghyun can hear is Dahae crying. He doesn’t know how to tell Taemin to keep talking, let Jonghyun hear his voice over her, how to ask Taemin to keep finding ways to tell Jonghyun nothing is wrong, everything’s okay, because how could Taemin be, after what she did to him.

Jonghyun raises his eyes to Taemin’s face and Taemin smiles at him. Tries to.

 

Eventually Yongdeok hyung gets Dahae on her feet and takes her away. Jonghyun doesn’t care where, as long as they picked up every last thing that dropped out of her purse and someone other than her picks up her car. He can’t remember the last he saw of her, lost in one long red blur, but she followed Jonghyun all the way up the stairs and into the dorm, hard kitchen chair pressing into his bruises, Taemin by his side, head down, breathing tight, shoulders tighter, Jinki staring across the table at them.

“So you two,” Jinki begins haltingly.

“Yes,” Jonghyun says. When he reaches for Taemin under the table Taemin stiffens, then relaxes, lets Jonghyun pry his hands apart before he wrings the life out of them and holds onto him instead, fingers laced together so tight it hurts.

Jinki tries again. “When…?”

“This summer,” Jonghyun says. “We got together this fall, last month.”

“Then you’re the person Taeminnie told me about. But you never liked him before that?” Jonghyun opens his mouth, not sure what’s going to come out, _What do you think I am, hyung,_ but Jinki’s eyes skim over him and land on Taemin. “Taeminnie?”

“No,” Taemin tells the floor. Next second Jinki’s foot connects with Jonghyun’s shin, just too soft to be a kick. He gets it right the second time, surprises Taemin into lifting his head. “Why?”

Jinki gives him the stupidest smile he’s got, smiles and smiles until Taemin smiles back, small and painful but real.

“Just trying to figure out why I didn’t notice you’d changed. I thought maybe it’d make more sense if you hadn’t,” Jinki says gently, and then suddenly it’s Jonghyun’s turn again. “But that wouldn’t explain you.”

Why does he need to be explained? Jonghyun never told his heart to flutter whenever Taemin smiles at him or touches him, and there’s no telling Jonghyun he has to make sense to anyone but himself now. That’s like telling him not to live. _Is this going in anywhere, do you understand Korean? Do you understand reality? You’re shit. Take him home to your mother and see what she thinks of you._

If Jonghyun hides behind his hands or shuts his eyes, if he even blinks, he might see her, so he doesn’t. Just hangs onto Taemin with everything he has and keeps on looking Jinki in the eye. “It’s Taeminnie, hyung.”

Jinki nods, like that much was obvious. “That’s what I’m saying.”

“I’m not a child,” Taemin cuts in sharply. “I’m only four years younger than you, hyung.”

“And hyung is an old man~?” The look Taemin gives him should probably wither Jinki’s smile, not make it widen. “I know you’re not, Taemin-ah.”

For one long moment Taemin doesn’t reply. Then, in a voice that hurts Jonghyun’s heart, “I’m not a child, but I am a man.”

_He’s not a girl. He looks like one but he’s not. I don’t care how pretty he is, he has a dick under there._

_Are you even a man, you’re built like a little girl._

Before he can stop himself, Jonghyun’s answering Jinki’s nod and _Yes, and?_ look with, “Don’t play dumb, hyung. You know what he’s trying to say.”

And just like that, Jonghyun is left sitting there wishing he could go back in time. Thirty seconds back and he could bite those words back, swallow this bitter taste in this mouth, shut Dahae up somehow. Thirty minutes back and he could tell her everything he should have said: _We broke up. I’m with Taeminnie now. We have nothing left to say to each other. Just go. Don’t embarrass yourself._ Forty-five minutes and he could be quieter getting out of bed, go out there without kissing Taemin goodbye, face Dahae without hiding behind him. A month ago and he could find it in himself to tell Taemin, _Let’s stay hyung-dongsaeng. Otherwise I’ll end up hurting you and hating myself._ But then he wouldn’t be sitting here right now, thinking these useless thoughts while he gets to hold Taemin’s hand, so small and soft and warm in his.

Jonghyun breathes deep.

“I was always going to hate Taeminnie’s boyfriend, I hated him before I even met him. I told myself it was because no one would ever be good enough for him, but really, I just didn’t want someone, anyone else to take him away from me. And then I realized some things and just wanted him,” he says to Jinki. He should’ve said this to Taemin long ago. “I’m the worst person he could’ve picked. I was too selfish to say no to him.”

“What are you even talking about, I’m the one who rejected you,” Taemin says over him, voice tight, but he doesn’t let Jonghyun go. Just pulls his hand into his lap and holds it in both of his. “You can hate yourself all you want, but don’t act like the rest of us have to.”

“Aigoo,” Jinki sighs. “You broke up with her, right? You were clear.”

It’s such an easy question, but it’s so hard to get the answer up his throat and out where Taemin and Jinki both can hear it. “Mm.”

“Then okay.”

“Okay? That’s it?”

Jinki sits back in his chair. “You’re talking to Jinki hyung, not Shinee’s leader Onew. You don’t need my permission to date either way, what do you think I am?”

Jonghyun thinks he’s the person who just saw Dahae hurt Taemin while Jonghyun did nothing, just cried and begged and pleaded, but those words die when Taemin’s foot finds his under the table, band-aid catching on Jonghyun’s sock. There were little Pororos all over it. He said he didn’t need it, he wasn’t even bleeding, but he let Jonghyun put it on him all the same.

“What does Onew hyung think?” Taemin says with difficulty.

“Just don’t get caught?” Jinki tells him, as though he’s missed the part where they just did. As though he can’t see the scratch on Taemin’s cheek and the mess of his hair, the bruises blooming on his arm that Jonghyun probably put there himself, trying to protect Taemin. Like he’s read Jonghyun’s mind, Jinki goes on, “What happened today can’t happen again.”

“I know,” Jonghyun gets out, right as Taemin says, “It won’t.”

Another nod, but somehow this one eases the tightness in Jonghyun’s chest.

“It’s lucky it was early, that fansite woman’s been camping out here during the day. I don’t know if it’s Jonghyunnie’s new hair or my recovery or what,” Jinki says. “Sasaengs bury a lot of stuff, but trusting them with this would be trusting them with your life.”

“We’re being careful,” Taemin says quickly. “It took you this long to find out and you live with us.”

Because he’s Jinki hyung. But he’s Jinki hyung, so instead of pointing that out, he asks his easiest question yet. “Do you know how Hong Dahae-ssi did?“

Except somehow it’s so hard for Jonghyun to give him a real answer, squeeze the truth out around _Go ask her._ “She must have been waiting for me in the parking lot. She kept calling me after we broke up, until I changed my number last week. I’m a coward.” Jonghyun tries living with that, leaving it there, but next second, “I lied to you, Taemin-ah. I lied and I’m sorry,” comes flying out of him.

Before _It’s my fault you got hurt_ follows, Taemin cuts him off, “Don’t be. I figured. I was okay waiting for you to tell me.”

One squeeze of his hand and just like that, Jonghyun can’t look anymore, burying his face in his hands. His eyes still itch, his voice is still scratchy and stuffed up, and he can feel round two crawling up his throat, squeezing him dry, breaking him down.

“I didn’t know she would do this.” Jonghyun fights to keep his voice under control. No good. “I knew she could, but I just. I really thought it was over.”

What if it never is? He knots his fingers in his hair and squeezes his eyes shut so tight it hurts. For one long moment he’s alone in the dark, before Taemin’s hand lands on his back, awkward, hesitant, patting, rubbing, whatever works. But it’s Taemin, and Jinki is right here watching, so nothing does. Everything just hurts a little more.

“I’m sorry, Taemin-ah. Hyung is sorry,” Jonghyun just barely gets out, words almost lost in this wild gulping sob. _Hyung is nothing but snot and tears and self-pity. Hyung is a piece of shit. Hyung is sorry._

“I said don’t be already. You didn’t do anything, it was her.”

“Couldn’t protect you.”

“It was scary how strong she was, it took both me and your manager to get her off Taeminnie,” Jinki says. “Does she work out?”

“I do, I work out like a crazy person. What good is that? It’s all for show.”

Of all things Taemin laughs. It’s not at Jonghyun, he wouldn’t, he just can’t handle Jonghyun when he gets like this. Still, he slips his hand into Jonghyun’s hair, stroking it back from his face. “At least she didn’t take pictures, that would’ve been smarter than hitting us.”

“She won’t tell anyone, Taemin-ah,” Jonghyun says. “That would mean hurting her pride.”

“That she lost you to someone like me?”

Jonghyun corrects him blindly, “That she slummed it with someone like me in the first place.” If it was Dahae who put that thought in Taemin’s head, Jonghyun should be the one to take it out. He scrubs his tears away and lifts his head. Taemin looks the exact same as he left him, lip caught between his teeth, eyebrows furrowed. Jonghyun presses his thumb between them, trying to smooth Taemin’s worry away. “Then again, it could be you. Remember when you had your ‘Sherlock’ hair, no girl group member wanted to stand next to you. Just look at you.”

For one second Jonghyun is terrified he’s gone and made it worse, _are you even a man are you even a man are you even a man,_ but then Taemin laughs out loud. Helpless and hiccupping, hunched in his seat, eye smile and white teeth, like one long deep breath.

Then his phone buzzes to life in his pocket. Jonghyun outlasts it, sitting there, breathing Taemin’s air, but Taemin picks his up on the first ring. Jonghyun should go change his pants, splash water on his face, try and remember where he left his shoes, but he just sits some more instead, hanging on Taemin’s every word. Mm. Mm. Okay. Mm. I know. Okay. Then finally, “Yongdeok hyung said not to ignore him, he doesn’t call unless it’s important. He said he’s waiting downstairs, and to hurry up or you’ll be late.” Taemin pulls a face, trying to recall the details. “Your meeting with Creative got moved to eight. He was gonna tell you on the way over, before this happened.” What? It’s fucking Sunday morning. Taemin lays his hand on Jonghyun’s arm, sudden and warm. “He said she’s gone, hyung.”

“You’ll be okay?”

Taemin meets his eyes steadily. Before Jonghyun can even blink, Jinki cuts in, “He has me, what would he need you for,” rising to his feet. He hesitates, then leans across the table to squeeze Jonghyun’s shoulder. “What about you, will you be okay?”

Taemin follows suit, pushing his chair in and pulling Jonghyun’s out, Jonghyun and all. “Not if he doesn’t hurry up. The less time he has the scarier Yongdeok hyung’s driving gets.”

The next thing is getting to his feet. Leaving. Going to work, living his life. Taemin can’t do any of that for him, but he holds Jonghyun’s hand all the way to the door, no more table to hide under, and he lets Jonghyun gather him up into his arms, burying his face in Jonghyun’s neck instead of staring at Jinki over his shoulder. His breathing is even and his eyes are dry and he smells like himself, and everywhere Jonghyun puts his hands Taemin is soft and warm and whole, but he can’t see inside him. He has this crazy thought of carrying him into their bedroom and stripping him naked, kissing every inch of his body, pushing inside him and filling him up until Taemin forgets everything else, this morning, this life, her, taking Taemin places far from here. Staying there with him.

“Text me if you need me and I’ll be here.” _Tell me you don’t want me to go, tell me there’s something I can do for you. Make me stay with you._ “I mean it, Taeminnie. If I can’t come up with an excuse Yongdeok hyung will. He’s good at that.”

He kisses Taemin’s hair, his forehead, squeezes him tight, and next thing the door slams and he’s alone.

“Jonghyun-ah! Jonghyun-ah, wait.”

Or not.

Jonghyun almost loses his hand holding the elevator for Jinki, and then he has ten floors to remind him, “You said you were going to stay with Taeminnie.”

“He went to the bathroom. He probably won’t be out before I get back.”

Jonghyun’s heart constricts and his world narrows down to the up button he should be pressing. But instead he’s asking, “Is he crying?”

“Trying not to, probably.” Jinki hesitates, eyes lingering on Jonghyun’s face. “Jonghyun-ah…I don’t know how well the other two will take it. They probably won’t believe you guys, for starters.”

“Minho won’t. And even if Kibummie did, he wouldn’t trust me with Taeminnie. He’s too smart.”

“Are you saying hyung is dumb~?”

“We went to his musical together last night,” Jonghyun goes on instead of answering. “It was a date for us and a joke for him. If he’d known…”

Then what? He and Taemin survived Dahae this morning, so what are Minho and Kibum? It’s not like they’d hate them, and Jonghyun can’t hate himself more than he already does, but Taemin…Taemin.

Jinki nudges Jonghyun’s shoulder with his own. “Just take good care of Taeminnie and he’ll come around.”

“I don’t need you to ask me to do that.”

“I know you don’t,” Jinki says simply. “I just needed to say it.”

Suddenly there’s a lump in Jonghyun’s throat again, and he doesn’t know who put it there. And all he can think to do is nod and say, “It’s Taeminnie.”

The elevator doors ping open. As Jonghyun steps out into the lobby Jinki makes as if to grab his arm. Jonghyun’s fine letting him pull him back, getting stuck with him on his way back up, but Jinki thinks better of it and follows Jonghyun towards the doors instead.

“Let him take care of you, too,” Jinki tells him. He smiles, sudden and goofy. “At least let him try.”

Jinki only thinks it’s funny because he doesn’t know Taemin like Jonghyun does. But on another day maybe Jonghyun would have thought so too, and he would’ve laughed out loud if Jinki had said that same exact thing a year ago. Maybe he would’ve laughed just now, if Taemin loved him less.

“Even before, he did. He always has. I’d be nowhere without him. I’d be no one,” Jonghyun says with difficulty. “Make sure he eats.”

Jinki smiles. “Don’t worry, it’s Taeminnie~”

That’s why.

“Get him jjajangmyun. He’s been craving it lately and I can’t have any until my MV is done.”

Just one more nod from Jinki, and Jonghyun pushes the doors open and steps into the sunlight. It’s so much colder than it was before without Taemin’s hand to keep him warm. He can do this. He likes the cold. And the van is right over there anyway, and Yongdeok hyung’s probably gotten it hot enough to roast Jonghyun by the time they reach SM. He doesn’t lean on the horn, though, so Jonghyun takes just one second and looks back. He doesn’t even know which window is theirs from down here.

_Cry, Taemin-ah. Don’t hold it in._

 

Yongdeok hyung gets Jonghyun over to SM with three minutes to spare, dropping him off at the front and telling him, “Run, Jonghyun-ah.” That’s the first thing he said since Jonghyun slid into the passenger seat and saw the mountain of tissues on the dash, stained black with mascara and Dahae’s tears. Jonghyun spent the ride over unclenching his fists, but maybe he should’ve talked instead, unblocked his chest, because by the time he reaches the meeting room his head is light and he can hardly breathe. He’s also the last person to arrive. From a million miles off Director-nim tells him to shut the door behind him, tells him to take a seat, tells him, “We’ve decided to go with both.”

“What?”

“We’ll release both ‘Crazy’ and ‘Deja-Boo’ as singles,” Director-nim clarifies. Which, _what?_ For one long moment, Jonghyun struggles, with himself, with this crazy upside down world he woke up to, where good is bad and bad is good, and Taemin is crying at home and SM is telling Jonghyun they’ll give him everything he wanted. Director-nim just goes on without him. “Marketing floated the idea of staggering your album’s digital release, a new song every few days or something, but our schedule is a little too tight for more than two or three.” Oh. “Music Bank wants you on the ninth.”

“Of January,” Jonghyun says around the ash in his mouth. “My comeback stage, you mean.”

All it took was letting Director-nim finish and Jonghyun’s life makes sense again. Digital single. Fans can download it a day or two early, before the rest of his album drops and it’s forgotten, and Jonghyun can pretend that means anything to him.

It doesn’t. It’s not less than nothing, but somehow it’s worse than it.

_I thought you said you’d picked ‘Deja-Boo.’ Don’t let them push you around, hyung._

_You don’t hate ‘Crazy,’ though, you said you liked it. You wouldn’t vote for it on music shows?_

_I’d vote for you._

One of the staffers chimes in, “That’ll be rerecorded, obviously. KBS wants you on the sixth, but we’re pushing for early. That cuts too close to your showcase—”

“Showcase?”

“The Performance Director hasn’t talked to you about that yet?” she says in surprise.

“No, I. No.” _No. Just talk to me like I’m an idiot, it’ll make this go faster. I’m not in my right mind. I don’t know what I’m saying._ Jonghyun doesn’t know anything. Just, “Taeminnie was supposed to have one.”

And SM broke Taemin’s heart, almost broke _Taemin_ pushing his debut up months, but what else is new.

“That was a bad time for us, this is a good one.” Director-nim leans back in his chair and scrubs his hands over his face, before frowning at Jonghyun. “We booked a venue weeks ago, no one told you? What about your manager?”

Jonghyun has to get this one right. He left Yongdeok hyung to park the van, and he never sits in on these meetings anyway. Just nods off with his book over his face in the hallway and jumps when Jonghyun kicks his shoe, and says, _What do you want for lunch today?_

Clumsily, Jonghyun starts up, “He would’ve told me if he knew,” but maybe that’s too weak. Or maybe it sounds like he’s blaming them instead? Shit. “He already has to tell me my schedule ten times a day, I’m the one who doesn’t listen.”

Director-nim nods and Jonghyun’s heart kicks in again. Then he sighs and sits forward again, saying, “Sorry, Jonghyun-ssi. Sometimes things just fall through the cracks.”

“No, I should be thanking you. It’s a good thing this time.”

At least it will be, later, when he has Taemin in his arms and there is such a thing again. But that’s hours and hours away, and the rest of Jonghyun’s life won’t stop getting in the way. Dahae, Creative, his showcase, “Crazy,” “Deja-Boo,” the things he should probably be saying right now, Thank you. I’ll do my best, I’ll work hard—

_Work hard, hyung._

Jonghyun grinds the heels of his palms into his eyes until he sees spots. When his vision clears everything looks the exact same as it did before. Director-nim’s expression hasn’t changed.

“About ‘Deja-Boo,’” is as far as he can get for one painful moment. He’ll just have to feel his way. “I’ll be promoting with both it and ‘Crazy,’ that’s already decided, I know. But I was hoping…” No good. If he can’t even believe in himself, how are they supposed to? He takes a deep breath, and tries again. “I tried to make my album into a compromise between what sells and what I like, but maybe that was the wrong way of thinking about it. It’s like you said before, Director-nim: you wouldn’t have put ‘Deja-Boo’ on the album if it weren’t any good. I can win with it.”

Director-nim’s eyebrows are climbing and just like that, Jonghyun’s stomach is in free fall. “On music shows, you mean? Jonghyun-ah.” He catches the look on Jonghyun’s face and half-smiles, switching to, “Jonghyun-ssi—“

“It doesn’t mean as much to the company as it means to me, right?” Jonghyun almost trips over the words in his rush to get them out, and the silence that follows crushes in on him, cutting off his air. But slow down. Focus. Make sense. “Realistically speaking, promotions aren’t what brings the money in at this point. Shinee’s fandom is big, so my album will sell. Preorder numbers were good for Taeminnie’s, right?”

Director-nim lets him have that point, inclining his head and raising his hand to silence the first staffer who tries to argue. That’s as far as Jonghyun can speak their language, anyway. Now he’s on his own.

“But for me,” Jonghyun starts. “For me, promotions are something I have to get up and do everyday. I’ve never done it as myself, Director-nim. Win or lose, I want to try.”

“That’s a fandom thing, too. Your fandom is big so you’ll probably win a few times regardless,” one of the staffers counters, like that was the point, not the part where Jonghyun is sick and fucking tired of pretending to be someone he’s not. The part where Jonghyun’s life as an artist was supposed to start the moment he stepped on stage to perform his own song, not end by committee in this stupid room that looks like every other room in this building.

“I’m fine if ‘Crazy’ gets the MV.”

“Aigoo,” Director-nim sighs. “Do you want my job while you’re at it?”

The room erupts into laughter around him. Jonghyun sits through it, fists so tight his hands are numb, skin buzzing.

Director-nim just smiles at him again, easier than before even. “They’re all paid to laugh at my jokes but I guess you’re not~”

No. Jonghyun is paid to shut up and look pretty.

“Director-nim—”

Director-nim shuffles his papers and says over him, “When we started on this, I said we’d try things your way, provided you could meet our standards. Might as well see it through.” He smiles some more at the look on Jonghyun’s face. Jonghyun can’t feel it, he has no idea what he looks like. He can hardly hear over his heart pounding in his ears. “Since digital single is just words to you anyway, let’s call ‘Deja-Boo’ a pre-release track for now. If the response is good, it will be the lead single.”

Jonghyun doesn’t let himself hear 'if.' He only has use for 'will.' All around him the meeting is breaking up, staffers talking and laughing on their way out, and there’s a hand on his elbow. Director-nim. Jonghyun lets him draw him to the furthest corner of the room, which is how he finds his legs still work.

“Jonghyun-ah, about your MV,” Director-nim begins quietly, before he falters.

“It was always going to be ‘Crazy,’ right?”

Director-nim doesn’t laugh at him or say something like, _If you knew, why did you say something so stupid,_ or _That’s right, I let you win._ Just shifts his weight and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Did you get in a fight or what?” Instinctively Jonghyun’s hand flies up to his face. He tries to cover, scratching his cheek, but his fingertips press into a bruise, dull flush of pain Director-nim reads in his face. “We’ll skip the part where you lie to me, your image isn’t my problem. Stop in with the coordis after this, okay? See what they want to do about it, you have less than a day before you film.”

“That’s tomorrow? It got moved up?”

“The PD asked to reschedule.” Director-nim claps him on the back. “I thought your manager tells you everything.”

Today he told Jonghyun, _It’s okay, Jonghyunnie. It’s fine._

When Jonghyun gets home to Taemin, what should he tell him?

 

_did u eat yet? jinki hyung said hed buy you something yummy_

Jonghyun kept that message in his pocket all morning, and now that it’s lunch break, he can finally press send. Just one little push, and it takes so much out of him, nerves jangling, chest tight. And now all that’s left to do is wait. He flops back on the rooftop and stares at the grey winter sky, and waits. It was summer when they had their first kiss up here and the cement was burning up in the sun, but now it’s blanketed in snow, new and white and half-melted, seeping into the back of his jacket. He should probably sit up.

_thinking about not eating_

_filming tomorrow_

_i thought i had another week_

He’s starving, too. “Deja-Boo’s” choreo is lighter than anything Shinee’s done since “Hello” maybe, and Jonghyun is in better shape than he’s been in a year, but tell that to Jonghyun’s body. His back aches and his legs are cramping and his throat is torn up and raw from singing live, and the stairs up here stole the last of his breath. It’s only coming back to him now that he can see it, puffs like smoke hanging in the air.

_dont worry i was kidding_

That’s a lie. Taemin wouldn’t think he was funny, anyway.

_ill eat if u do taeminah_

_taeminnie~_

_…_

_taeminah_

_i love u_

“Jonghyun-ah!” Yongdeok hyung calls his name, but Jonghyun hears it in his voice: _you crazy bastard._ “They’re picking it up again.”

Another five hours of ripping his voice to shreds and working his muscles into pulp, and Jonghyun is back in the same place. Well, not quite. Yongdeok hyung told him it was too dark to go back up and that there was no moon tonight anyway, so he’s spread out on his back on the vocal room floor instead, fluorescent lights burning spots into his vision. He’s slept here with Taemin before.

Anyway. Back to waiting.

_what r u doing_

Jinki takes ten whole minutes to tap out a reply, but Taemin’s going on ten hours at this point, and Jonghyun can’t take much more of that.

_nothing_

Jonghyun breathes deep and tries again.

_lunch?_

Under a minute this time, but then it’s, _chicken~_

Damn it, Jonghyun told him to get jjajangmyun. But this is Jinki he’s talking to, so it’s Jonghyun’s own fault. When his phone buzzes again it tells him _taeminnie asked for it. honestly._ All Jonghyun asked was if Taemin is okay and Jinki keeps texting him this stupid shit. What is that even supposed to mean, he asked for it? As in he was hungry for it? Or that he knew it was the fastest way to make Jinki stop thinking about him and start thinking with his stomach.

That’s unfair. Jonghyun needs to try harder. Maybe he should call Taemin. He hasn’t tried that yet. Or maybe he should leave Taemin alone. He hasn’t tried that yet, either.

_did taeminnie lose his phone?_

He’s hit send before he has the chance to regret it, but then twice as fast he’s tapping out, _dont tell him to check it._

Jinki takes a minute to check on Taemin instead.

 _listening to music,_ he reports back. Hesitates. Then, _should i ask what kind?_

_forget it. headphones are probably his excuse to ignore u_

That’s really unfair.

_im going crazy hyung_

_director-nim asked if i was in a fight_

Jonghyun wasn’t. Taemin was. All Jonghyun did was cry and beg and plead and wait for it to be over. And it’s been hours and Taemin is all alone, and Jonghyun is still waiting. For Taemin to tell him he’s okay, not to worry. For himself to believe that. His day is churning in his stomach, gravel in his throat, smoke in his eyes, and even when he turns over and mashes his face into the floor and closes them, none of it goes away. He doesn’t see Taemin. He sees nothing.

“Time, Jonghyun-ah. Jonghyun-ah. Are you sleeping?”

“I’m up, hyung.” Jonghyun’s voice is allowed to sound weird after everything he’s done to it today. “Just give me a second.”

Yongdeok hyung hesitates, but then the door swings shut again and Jonghyun is alone.

He scrubs at his eyes and struggles to his feet.

 

“It’s Sunday, Jonghyun-ssi.” Jonghyun looks up from his coffee to find Heeyeon frowning across the table at him, head propped up on her fist. “It’s Sunday and it’s one in the goddamn morning.”

“We’re friends. We see each other outside of work all the time.”

“After it,” she corrects him. She sighs and slumps back, crossing her legs, foot jogging, ankle peeking out of her pajama pants. “Just so you know what to expect, next time you call me this late I’ll probably just hang up, if I don’t stay on long enough to swear at you. What’s so important you couldn’t tell me over the phone?”

“It felt awkward, is all.” It still does, sitting here under soft amber lighting instead of the yellow umbrella of the street stall outside MBC, surrounded by students on laptops and couples reluctant to say good night instead of people too drunk to understand what words are. But keeping it inside him would be worse, and the one person he can talk to is right here, and, ”You remember that time, a few months ago. I was drunk but you weren’t. You know what I’m talking about, right?”

Heeyeon goes still. Jonghyun’s heart takes off.

“You mean Taeminnie.”

_Aigoo. What about Taeminnie?_

_He rejected me._

“We’re dating now,” Jonghyun says quickly.

“He changed his mind?”

This isn’t the point, but Jonghyun can’t help saying, “He didn’t say no because he disliked me, it was because he loved me. It’s complicated.”

“You never even bothered to tell me you and Hong Dahae-ssi broke up,” Heeyeon accuses him, but then she thinks twice. “You did, right?” One nod and Heeyeon’s features soften into something so close to a smile. “Good. Now I can hate her in peace. Even the neutral things I could think to say about her sounded shitty.”

Jonghyun should be drunk for this.

“She caught us together,” he tells his coffee, but that’s wrong. He and Taemin weren’t doing anything wrong, not anymore. “Saw us. It was outside our dorm. She must have been waiting for me. When I broke up with her, maybe she thought it meant as little to me as it always did to her, I don’t know.”

“How bad?” Heeyeon says.

“Bad.” Worse. “She went after Taeminnie. She pulled his hair.”

Heeyeon makes a disgusted noise, and when Jonghyun sneaks a glance at her she’s wearing an expression to match it. “Aigoo, what a cliché. Did she hit you?”

“I deserved worse. Honestly, if it had just been me, I’d be relieved. But Taeminnie…”

“No one deserves to be hit, Jonghyun-ah,” Heeyeon cuts across him sharply. “Has she hit you before?”

“Just once.” But Jonghyun should’ve lied and said no, because this isn’t the point, and now there are so many things fighting their way onto Heeyeon’s face that he never wanted to see. Anger. Pity. “We were fighting, Heeyeon-ssi, it was a fight. When she’s mad it goes to her head, she doesn’t know what she’s doing.”

Heeyeon shakes her head at him, crossing her arms tightly over her chest, voice twisting up tighter and tighter as she says, “If you don’t want to talk about it I won’t make you. Just don’t make excuses for her now that you’ve dumped her, it makes me want to argue. I don’t want to waste my breath on her so don’t waste yours.” Once that much is out of her system she exhales shakily, leaning over to pat Jonghyun on the arm. “You okay?”

It barely hurt in the moment and it only hurts when he moves now, and the bruises she left him with are nothing the coordi noonas can’t cover up. And those aren’t excuses. He never has to see Dahae again, never has to go back to her apartment, cook her food she’ll throw away, give her words she’ll twist, pieces of himself she’ll step on or laugh at, lie awake in her bed dying of loneliness. And he no longer wonders if he put her in that same place she always put him, if she’s the one lying awake now. She hit him hard enough to knock herself out of his head for good. He’s done feeling sorry.

“It’s Taeminnie I’m worried about. He acted like he was fine this morning but I don’t know how long I can act like I’m stupid, not about him,” Jonghyun says. “Dahae knew how to hurt him. What to say.”

She always did with Jonghyun, too.

Heeyeon squeezes his arm and sits back. Over her coffee she says, “She called him names?”

Whore. Bitch. Freak. Faggot.

“Taeminnie thinks I’m embarrassing, I say too much out loud, but that’s because he’s always needed to hear things I shouldn’t have had to tell him. That there’s nothing wrong with him, not the way he looks, not who he loves or how he lives his life, nothing. That he’s beautiful the way he is, that I love him the way he is.” This strange burning thing is climbing up Jonghyun’s throat, thick as smoke, stopping his breath, but when he swallows it’s only air. “She made it sound like I want him to be something he’s not.”

“Because he looks feminine?”

Because he looks good in long hair and girls’ clothes. Because he’s skinny and his face is pretty and half the girls in their company are jealous of his legs. Because his job means wearing make up. Because he likes being fucked. Because being man doesn’t mean being a man, it means muscles and body hair and having no feelings and Jonghyun doesn’t give a shit what else.

“He’s more of a man than I am. How could he not be a man to me?”

It took so much out of Jonghyun to get there, say that out loud, but one heartbeat later Heeyeon’s moved on to, “What was he to you before? A child, right?”

Jonghyun cracked himself open just now and let her look inside, and that’s all she can say. Whatever. It’s too easy a question not to answer her. “Cute and pretty dongsaeng.”

Taemin still is. Maybe he always will be. Jonghyun doesn’t want to let that part of him go.

“And you must have been the cool hyung who ditched him to go on dates,” Heeyeon guesses, smiling faintly.

Maybe when Taemin was thirteen. But since then…the hyung who cries too easily. The hyung who talks too much, eats too little, tries too hard, falls in love too fast. The blind hyung who went around getting his heart broken by the wrong people? And if Heeyeon asked Taemin himself he’d just say Jonghyunnie hyung.

“You make it sound like I actually got somewhere with girls I liked. Where would I have found the time, even?” Jonghyun only says it to make Heeyeon laugh, make this next part easier to say. “And it wasn’t like that. Even when I had a girlfriend I spent more time with Taeminnie than her. A lot of it was work, but that wasn’t everything. Taeminnie was…Taeminnie. He was the first person to make me feel needed.”

Who knows what would come out of him if had soju in him right now. Jonghyun shuts up and drinks his coffee, and lets Heeyeon explain patiently, “The point I was trying to make was he’s the first guy you’ve even looked at, right? He’s watched you date girls all this time, and you watched him grow up. That has to be confusing.”

“I didn’t date all the time, I just said. And we’re only three years apart.”

She groans, combing her hair back from her face. “I need sleep for this. That or soju.”

Jonghyun can’t blame her. Even if he had both he still couldn’t deal with himself.

“I have to shoot my MV tomorrow. I can’t drink or I’ll bloat,” he says.

“You’re showing skin, huh. That’s your excuse for giving me caffeine at this hour?”

Jonghyun takes another sip of his coffee, harsh and bitter and bleh. Yongdeok hyung always forgets and orders it black, so Jonghyun’s had months already to get used to the taste. He’s trying. That’s why he ordered it for himself.

Anyway. “I promised Taeminnie I’d stop.”

“Aigoo.” Heeyeon shakes her head at him again. “If you gave up soju for him, what’d he give up for you?”

“Do you calculate these things?”

“You’re the one who called me out to talk. Next time pick a friend who knows how to give love advice,” she retorts, slouching back and sinking deeper into her hoodie.

_You’re the only one who knows about us. And you’re the only one who knows the real me._

“I don’t want to come home to him like that,” Jonghyun says out loud.

She laughs. “You mean make him come and get you?”

That too.

“I don’t want to make myself disgusting. I’m no good drunk, I get sick or I cry and I hate smelling myself, and Taeminnie won’t want to kiss me if I have soju breath. And these days when I wake up I want to remember last night.”

“I’ll have to find another drinking buddy,” is all Heeyeon has to say to any of that.

Once in a while should be okay. Right? Taemin took care of Jonghyun for a whole year, carried him home and put him to bed and patted his back while he puked his guts out, and somehow he still fell in love with Jonghyun by the end of it.

“I won’t ask you to drink with me,” Jonghyun amends, “but if you ask me to drink with you, I won’t say no.”

“I won’t forget that~” She was supposed to crack a smile but she cracks her jaw yawning instead. “Go home for now. Seriously. Is this what you want to remember, having coffee with me in this place?”

She’s right. Taemin is probably waiting up for him right now. Or maybe he can’t sleep, and when he hears Jonghyun come in he’ll just pretend he is. Or maybe he went home to his parents for tonight, and Jonghyun will come home to an empty room.

Jonghyun stays where he is. “What if he runs away from me again?”

“You’re running away from him right now, Jonghyun-ah.”

Jonghyun’s throat tightens. It needs to stop doing this to him. Coffee doesn’t help more than soju ever did, either.

“I couldn’t protect him and now I can’t talk to him. I’m scared he’ll realize I’m not the man he thought I was,” Jonghyun gets out. “I probably look like a loser to you, huh.”

That’s not fair, Heeyeon has put up with so much worse from him, she’s drunk with him so many times, and she still showed up tonight. And after everything Taemin has seen, all the ugly parts of himself Jonghyun never meant to show him—after this morning—what is there left to hide?

“You must really be in love,” Heeyeon says. She pokes his arm, twisting her finger into the crook of his elbow until he forgets himself and finds her watching him with narrowed eyes. “Usually you have to get drunk to say something that stupid.”

Jonghyun laughs.

It takes him by surprise, sudden and loud. Too loud. The student one table over fishes her headphones out of her bag and the couple behind them shoot Jonghyun strange looks, but Heeyeon’s eyes crinkle up and when Jonghyun can breathe again, his chest is clear and open.

“Ask me about my album, noona,” he says, pushing her coffee towards her. “Or I could ask about you?”

“Don’t,” she says shortly, before she picks her mug up and hides her smile behind it. “Otherwise I’ll regret getting out of bed even more. I’m just finishing my coffee and then I’m going home.”

Jonghyun will too.

 

When Jonghyun gets back the dorm is black and silent. By the time he reaches their room his toes are stinging, his knee too because that was a wall over there, and heart is in his throat. He gropes in the dark for the door knob, cool and metal under his hand, trying not to give himself any more time to think than all the hours he already did. All it takes is one little push, and he can breathe again.

Taemin is here. Huddled under Jonghyun’s blanket, in Jonghyun’s bed. _Here._

“Taeminnie?” Jonghyun whispers. “Taemin-ah.”

No answer. Asleep? Pretending to be?

Jonghyun picks his way across their room to his own bed and stands over Taemin as his eyes adjust. He follows the line of Taemin’s body under the blanket, the bend of his legs and the curve of his spine, pale smooth shoulder peeking out and hair spilled across his pillow, blacker than black. Taemin’s face is smooth. Expressionless.

Yeah, he’s asleep. Otherwise his brow would be scrunching up and he’d probably turn over to squint up at Jonghyun and say, _Hyung?_ More like _Hyuuung._

Jonghyun sets his alarm and strips silently, leaving his clothes on the floor. He slides under the blanket and settles in behind Taemin, skin-on-skin everywhere Jonghyun is touching him. When he presses in closer, drapes his arm over Taemin’s waist, finds his hand, Taemin doesn’t move. Just lays there in Jonghyun’s arms, naked and soft and warm, breathing deep and even.

Jonghyun holds on. Holds him. Closes his eyes and buries his face in Taemin’s hair, feels his stomach rising and falling under his arm and listens to him breathe, until his heart fills to bursting. To breaking. And then he just lays there same as Taemin, and loves him so much it hurts.

 

His day starts at four a.m. He thought the hardest thing would be leaving Taemin sleeping in silence, but that was before the coordi noona got ahold of him. Brush following Face Noona’s eyes across Jonghyun’s features as she zeroes in on every place Dahae left a mark. Hair Noona teasing his hair just so to cover the cut on his temple. Both of them uncovering bruises Jonghyun didn’t know he had as they slather his abs and pecs and shoulders with oil. Neither of them say anything, so Jonghyun does. He tripped down the stairs the day before yesterday. Of their apartment building, on his way out to work. The elevator wasn’t coming and he was late. Twelve flights isn’t much when you’re going down anyway. Maybe the elevator wasn’t working, it’s broken down before. They must have fixed it then, because he took it today. On and on and on, each word leaving his mouth tasting more bitter, each lie eating at his nerves and stealing the air from his lungs and crawling under his skin. Yongdeok hyung is sitting in the far corner, away from the makeup counter, but he can probably hear everything, and what does that matter, when Jonghyun knows the truth better than him, and he can see and hear himself. Even when he stops looking in the mirror he still feels more naked than he ever has in his life. He can’t take much more of this.

He takes six straight hours of it.

Sexy, Jonghyun-ssi. Look at the camera like you want to fuck it. Flex. No, that looks too obvious. Isn’t there a way you can stand to make your abs stand out more? Better. Good. Great. Keep it up.

When they hit lunch break the PD calls Jonghyun over to watch what they have. And what they have is abs, abs, abs, and more abs. This past month he worked as hard for them as he did for his album, but maybe he shouldn’t have. Taemin’s eyes are one thing, Taemin’s hands, his teeth and tongue and lips as he kisses his way down Jonghyun’s body, those noises he makes when Jonghyun holds him down or picks him up, but the camera doesn’t give a fuck about the rest of Jonghyun.

“I don’t know how much photoshop we’ll have to do.” PD-nim slaps Jonghyun’s stomach like it’s a drum, then grimaces at Jonghyun instead of grinning, wiping his hand on his pants. “How much stuff did they put on you? Anyway, we’re thinking of going with a black and white aesthetic, so the contrast will be sharper.” He pats Jonghyun’s back this time. “It’s okay for you to eat now. Get dressed too. I’m thinking we’ll chain you up after lunch.”

At least Taemin will get something out of this MV. Jonghyun will too, watching him watch it.

The coordi noonas only give Jonghyun his phone once they’ve got him into the first of several suits. And there are only two message from Taemin:

_fighting hyung^^_

_is it crazy?_

Jonghyun could have told him everything yesterday, if Taemin had answered any of the million texts Jonghyun sent him. But maybe he should’ve told him now instead of flipping over to Minho and finding Dahae’s name staring up at him.

_hong dahae-ssi didnt come in to work today._

_dont worry her manager got her on the phone. says its bc of personal reasons._

_taeminnie said u broke up with her but i thought u should know_

_just in case it got back to u_

_nothings wrong dont worry_

_well_

_pd-nim wants to fire her. things are crazy here, we were already behind_

He won’t. Not with the family she comes from.

Jonghyun shrugs into his jacket and keeps walking until he hits a door. Instead of fresh air he’s met with a cloud of smoke. Yongdeok hyung nods at him, cigarette dangling from his mouth.

“It’s cold out here.”

“They let me put my shirt back on.”

Yongdeok hyung nods again, smokes some more. Jonghyun slides along the wall to sit on his haunches, ignoring the jump in his pulse and the words halfway up his throat, Bum me one? He’s been fighting it for two years and winning for one, but he can’t seem to kill the part of himself that still craves nicotine.

“I heard on the radio this morning it was supposed to snow,” Yongdeok hyung offers after a minute of silence.

“I was there for that part, hyung.” And that was the only thing to break the silence between them, weather reports and morning calisthenics and the first rock channel Yongdeok hyung could find. Yesterday they didn’t even have that. Jonghyun sinks deeper into his jacket, crossing his arms over his knees and sticking his hands inside it. “Did I sound like I was lying earlier? With the coordi noonas.”

_Since you were there for part where she hit me._

“Mm. You’re a bad liar,” Yongdeok hyung says, surprising a laugh out of Jonghyun. He hesitates, then grinds his cigarette under his shoe and drops down next to Jonghyun. “If you don’t want people to think something’s wrong, you’re better off not saying anything.”

“I got so used to doing that when I was with her.” Once it’s out of his mouth there’s no going back. Somehow he’s talking about this. “You’re probably right, it would’ve been better if I’d never said anything at all, but Taeminnie says I can’t not talk. But with her, it was like…I never meant what I said, or I didn’t say what I really meant? Half the time I didn’t even know what I was saying. And I never knew if I was lying to her or to myself.”

“Probably both.”

Probably.

“My friend thinks I made excuses for her,” Jonghyun tells him.

“You probably did.”

Probably, but what does Yongdeok hyung know?

“You only saw us together what, twice? Three times?”

“If you don’t want to talk to me about it then don’t talk to me about it,” Yongdeok hyung says instead of answering. “And if you’d rather I didn’t see anything, then I didn’t see anything.”

Jonghyun would rather he’d never seen Minho’s text or the mountain of tissues stained with her tears in the van. He’d rather he hadn’t made out with her after the CF shoot and stayed with Taemin and the others instead, making a mountain of tissues stained with her lipstick.

He’d rather he’d seen Taemin from the very beginning. So what if Taemin didn’t like him back then. He could’ve followed him around for years and years, until finally they got back to where they are now.

He’d rather rip his heart out or bite his tongue off than say, “Minho said she skipped work today. The PD wants to fire her. She cried a lot, right?”

But this is his life.

“Mm,” Yongdeok hyung grunts.

“Where did you drop her off?”

“Set.”

This one’s a little harder. Jonghyun takes a deep breath, hands curling into fists. “Did she say anything?”

It takes so much out of him, but all that gets him is another, “Mm.” Jonghyun can feel his insides twisting up, but Yongdeok hyung meets Jonghyun’s eyes steadily, and before something breaks in Jonghyun he tells him, “Don’t ask what, Jonghyun-ah. I know what these relationships are like.”

It’s the last thing Jonghyun should say but it’s the first thing in his head, first thing out of his mouth. “Have you ever been with a girl who could beat you up? If you have I’d like to see her.”

What about Jonghyun, with his six-pack abs? He can shut up. Too late. He can just sit here and feel shitty.

“My noona’s husband hits her when he’s drunk.”

Shittier.

As soon as he can speak, Jonghyun says, “I’m sorry.”

“I am too,” Yongdeok hyung says. “If it’s worse than normal she’ll come stay with me for a few days. And then that bastard will dry out and start calling. If I don’t hand her the phone, even if I hang up on him, she still wants to know what he’s said. It’s always the same thing. ‘I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I love you.’ And it always works. She tells herself it’s the soju, not him.” Yongdeok hyung sighs like an old man, scrubbing his hand over his face. “Then who drank it? For five years, I’ve been dying to ask her that.”

“I’m not going back.” Whenever Dahae kicked him out of her life and he told himself that, it used to sound like lies, but not anymore. She’s gone from his life, and so is the person she could snap in half with just a word or just a look. “I’m lucky, I had somewhere else to go. If Taeminnie hadn’t taken me in I don’t know if I could’ve left her.” Hearing himself Jonghyun’s stomach wrenches. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“I’m talking about my real noona, Jonghyunnie. Not like you and Taeminnie,” Yongdeok hyung says, playing dumb. He nudges Jonghyun, then again, until Jonghyun returns his smiles. And then he stares at the ground instead. “I don’t know if she knew what he was when she married him, but she still loves him.”

Does she love herself?

Jonghyun doesn’t know how to ask that. Even if he did, he doesn’t know if it’s okay to ask. He doesn’t know Yongdeok hyung’s noona at all, and every time they talk it’s like he knows Yongdeok hyung a little less. All he knows is that Dahae made him hate himself.

“We were never going to get married, it was always going to end. But it felt like it never would. It still feels like that sometimes. Like this has all been a dream and I’m going to wake up next to her again.”

Yongdeok hyung takes that in and says back, “You knew Taeminnie a lot longer than you ever knew her, right?”

“Mm.”

“And you’ll stay with him longer than you stayed with her,” Yongdeok hyung says, so much closer to a question than Jonghyun can bear. But then the next thing is, “Give it time, then. You’ll have lots of it,” and just like that there’s a smile fighting its way onto Jonghyun’s face. He lets it win.

“Aigoo, how cheesy. I didn’t even know you had it in you to say those kinds of things.”

“Don’t worry about promotions,” is all Yongdeok hyung has to say to that. “If she tries coming around, I mean. I handled her yesterday, I can handle her again.”

Jonghyun’s blood runs cold, because what does that mean, handling her. But his heart keeps beating, and he manages, “Did she yell at you?”

“Aigoo. She just cried, like I said.” Yongdeok hyung climbs to his feet, shaking his head down at Jonghyun. He should probably be getting up too, ignoring the part of him that never wants to again. “It’s my job to get yelled at, anyway.”

“Jonghyun-ah!” The door cracks open behind them and one of the coordi noonas pokes her head out. “Touch ups, come on. That suit is white, what the hell are you even doing out here.”

Yongdeok hyung stretches out his hand. When Jonghyun takes it he puts him on his feet again. He holds the door, too, but Jonghyun just needs a minute. He digs for his phone and finds Taemin’s name.

_u were right._

_crazy_

_theyre prereleasing dejaboo and if it sells i can promote with it. hyung bargained with them_

_and itll sell so i won. they just dont know it yet. be proud of me taeminnie~_

_ill probably be home late_

_wait up for me?_

His phone buzzes while the coordi noonas are busy with his face. Seconds last eternities, until finally the PD calls for him and Jonghyun steals just one for himself.

_if i fall asleep wake me up_

_i wont but if i do_

_work hard hyung_

_tell ur abs to work hard too^^_

 

By the time the shoot wraps up the stars are winking out, and when Yongdeok hyung pulls into their build’s parking lot, the sun is rising.

“I’m just gonna wait out here and sleep,” Yongdeok hyung says. “One hour and we have to go back, the band is scheduled to film then. I’m trusting you.” He wags his finger in Jonghyun’s face before scrubbing his hands across his own. “Shit. Should’ve just slept there.”

Taemin is here.

Maybe Jonghyun should’ve taken a taxi back, but he didn’t, so he nods and squeezes Yongdeok hyung’s shoulder and promises, “One hour.”

The elevator is empty and so is their hallway, echoing with Jonghyun’s footsteps. His heart only starts to pick up when he reaches their door, and it takes him a second too long to remember their passcode, part of him holding out for Taemin to come and open the door for him. But the dorm is empty, too. It’s okay. Taemin said to wake him up. If Jonghyun listens to him and does it on purpose just this once, Taemin will forgive him. He has to.

Jonghyun gets as far as the hallway to their room when their door cracks open and Taemin peers out at him drowsily. Just a few more steps and Jonghyun has Taemin in his arms. He buries his face in Taemin’s neck and breathes him in.

“Did you finish?” Taemin says, rubbing Jonghyun’s back. Jonghyun shakes his head wordlessly and Taemin groans in sympathy. “You just came back to shower?”

Jonghyun shakes his head again, squeezing Taemin tighter. “To recharge.” He slides his hand up Taemin’s spine to tangle his fingers in Taemin’s hair. “Does hyung stink or something?”

“Mm.”

When Jonghyun slips his other hand up Taemin’s shirt and pinches his side Taemin just laughs in his ear. He doesn’t let Jonghyun go, though, so Jonghyun turns in his arms and heads for the closet to hunt for clothes, Taemin hugging Jonghyun’s middle, warm and solid at his back, his breath tickling Jonghyun’s neck. The walk to the bathroom seems too short, right up until the door snicks shut and he turns to find Taemin pulling his shirt over his head. He lets Jonghyun look all he wants, looking right back, then stands under the water with him. Even when they first got together he was still so shy, but now his skin is flushed from the heat and steam, not Jonghyun’s eyes. At least Jonghyun is pretty sure. Taemin stopped looking him in the eye a minute ago, swirling soap over Jonghyun’s chest and shoulders, slow and gentle. Washing yesterday away.

“Taemin-ah.”

“Mm.”

“I don’t know how to say this.”

“Just say it anyway,” Taemin says, looking up to shoot Jonghyun a smile. “That’s what I do. Otherwise I’d never talk.”

His bangs are dripping in his eyes. Jonghyun pushes them out of his face, before going for Taemin’s shampoo. He’s good and doesn’t stop to sniff it, working it into Taemin’s hair, massaging his scalp. Taemin goes still under Jonghyun’s hands, smile widening, eyes sliding shut.

“I don’t mind switching,” Jonghyun says to him.

Taemin cracks one, then both eyes open. “You don’t mind?”

That’s his answer? What is Jonghyun supposed to say to that? He just offered Taemin his body and that’s all Taemin can say. He’s impossible. But it already belonged to Taemin, anyway, and since their first night together, Taemin’s taken whatever he wanted from it, everything Jonghyun knew how to give him.

“I’ve never done it before,” Jonghyun says. “Well. One finger, this one time, when this girl blew me.”

Taemin’s hand stills over Jonghyun’s heart and his brow wrinkles. “I thought you weren’t into hooking up.“

“Girlfriend,” rushes out of Jonghyun. He puts Taemin right under the head of the shower and busies himself with rinsing Taemin’s hair. “Ex. You never met her, it wasn’t that serious, we went on three dates, and. Never mind.”

“I don’t mind hearing about other people,” Taemin says.

Jonghyun narrows his eyes at him but Taemin’s expression doesn’t slip. It sits on Jonghyun’s chest instead, leaving him with this strange airless feeling. “Now I know how you felt, hearing that.”

“As long it’s from before, I don’t. I didn’t like you back then so it doesn’t count.” Taemin gives him another smile before he lowers his eyes to Jonghyun’s skin again, fingers drawing patterns in soap. Jonghyun thinks that’s it, no more talking, but then, “I wouldn’t mind trying, either. What you said.”

“Fucking me?” Taemin nods. “You wouldn’t mind.”

Taemin nods again. “Sometime.” Jonghyun tugs at Taemin’s hair so that he’ll lift his head, but when their eyes meet maybe he has a harder time than Taemin, not looking away. “I like it the way it is, you have to do all the work,” Taemin says. His ears are glowing red. “And I just like it. I like having something inside me.”

Jonghyun loves him. In this moment, almost more than his body can hold.

“Something?”

He’s being stupid. But he can be as stupid as he want and Taemin will still love him back, kiss him back, let Jonghyun crowd him up against the wall, dig his fingers into the knobs of Jonghyun’s spine, smile against his mouth. Say into it, “Your dick, hyung.” There are so many other things, though, beads and dildos and vibrators. Except Taemin grows shy and hides in Jonghyun’s neck, and says, “You,” and Jonghyun forgets everything else. “You have to go back in after this, right?”

“You waited up all night for me, I can hold you until you fall asleep. If you don’t mind, that is~”

“I do.” Taemin tightens his arms around Jonghyun. “I don’t wanna wake up alone.”

And all Jonghyun wants to do is fall asleep with him. That and sleep for a hundred years. He rubs circles into Taemin’s back and presses him closer until everything is as soft and warm and smooth as Taemin’s skin. “Just sleep all day, and then I’ll be back.”

“I don’t want you to go. I know I’m being stupid.”

“Let me hold you for a while.”

Taemin lets him. Towels off while Jonghyun gets dressed and shuffles back into their room still naked, burrowing into Jonghyun’s bed, holding the blanket up for Jonghyun, wriggling closer as Jonghyun gathers him up, using Jonghyun’s arm as a pillow. Closing his eyes. If he really hasn’t slept Jonghyun doesn’t have long.

“They’re giving me a showcase,” Jonghyun tells him.

Taemin keeps his eyes shut. “Good.”

“You don’t hate me?”

“I will if you keep asking me that,” Taemin retorts, almost before Jonghyun can finish, but his hand is so gentle, passing over Jonghyun’s side. “Did you hate me for going first? Anyway, hating SM is a lot easier. And they didn’t give you anything, you earned it.”

“You earned it too and they took it away from you.”

“Next album I won’t let them.”

There’s this weird glowing thing inside Jonghyun, so bright it hurts to look at. He strokes Taemin’s hair back from his face, staring into it. “You have to come.”

Taemin’s mouth crooks. He doesn’t bother to hide his smile or keep it out of his voice as he says, “I guess so. I have nothing else to do these days.”

There. He told Taemin and Taemin said he’d come. Now all that’s left is for it to sink in. Showcase. Performing his songs in front of a hundred of their fans, showing them his music for the first time. Showing them a side of him they’ve never met. But right now his heart isn’t racing and his skin hasn’t gone numb and his stomach is still where it’s supposed to be, and so is Taemin. So it’s easy for him to admit, “I’m already nervous.”

“The more I practiced the more nervous I got. It’s different going solo, if you fuck up you’re on your own,” Taemin replies, like that’s supposed to help. “Just do your best, hyung. Since it’s you, that should be enough.”

Somehow it always has been for Taemin.

“Taemin-ah.”

“How am I supposed to sleep if you keep talking to me?”

“About yesterday…” That’s as far as Jonghyun gets before the words stick in his throat and Taemin goes still in his arms. But Taemin doesn’t open his eyes, and he doesn’t stiffen at Jonghyun’s touch, and he’s as warm and soft and naked as he was before Jonghyun said anything. “I know you don’t want me to be sorry, but I am. Hyung can’t help it.”

“Then keep it to yourself,” Taemin says shortly. Shutting up is the one thing Jonghyun can never do, but if it’s for Taemin…he’ll try. He’ll try really hard, starting now. But then the next thing is, “You don’t have to tell me everything in your head, hyung. Even if you don’t say anything, I already know it.”

“What am I thinking right now?” Jonghyun asks him.

“That you can’t get a boner, you have to go.”

“Taemin-ah~”

Taemin smiles to himself.

“‘I love you,’” he says. “Or something that means that.”

“Thank you,” Jonghyun tells him. “I’m allowed to say that, right?” When he reaches up to pinch Taemin’s cheek Taemin’s smile widens. Jonghyun drinks it in, working up his courage to say, “Thank you, Taeminnie. For standing up to her. For protecting me.”

For one long moment, Taemin doesn’t answer, hiding in Jonghyun’s shirt. And then all he says is, “You’re welcome.”

“Aigoo.”

“Now let me sleep,” Taemin says. “You just don’t want to go to work.”

Jonghyun keeps his eyes open and stares into Taemin’s face as he drifts off. And holds him.

 

“Did you get lost or something? I can’t remember the last time an idol came to visit us.”

It’s the third time Jonghyun’s been down here today, but this is the first time she’s been in, now that everyone else has gone home. She’s the only person Jonghyun knows from the art team. The only person he can ask.

When he figures out how to do that. “You’re a long way off from the practice rooms, noona.”

“We sent our drafts to Creative, bother them, not me,” she says. But all Jonghyun has to do is stand there and wait, shadow falling over he work, and she gives up, sitting back. “We were thinking of going with a photograph, like we did with Taeminnie’s album. It’ll look cool, don’t worry. You just think of a name before SM thinks of one for you.”

“Base.”

“What?”

“I’m calling it _Base.”_ It’s his first time saying it out loud and hearing how it sounds comes with this weird rush, stomach flipping, words bubbling up. Lots of them. “You don’t want to know why? One, it’s the base of my solo career, and shows the kind of music I like and want to make. Two, I played bass when I was in a band. And three—”

“Aigoo, who are you trying to impress?” she cuts across him. “SM will go for it. It rhymes with _Ace,_ that’s cute, they’ll go for it. Fans love that kind of thing.”

And three. Jonghyun lays the copy of _Ace_ Yongdeok hyung went out and got him this morning on the desk in front of her. Taemin stares up at him and so does she, at a loss.

“I want mine to look exactly like it,” Jonghyun says.

“You want me to plagiarize myself,” she says flatly, peering at him over her glasses, look on her face like he’s crazy.

He doesn’t care if he is.

“The font, the picture, the dust jacket, the CD plate, everything. The logo can’t be the same as Taeminnie’s, but similar? Maybe mine could have four corners. It’s fine if it’s not black and white, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“It’s like you said—Shinee World will like it so will SM,” Jonghyun plows on. “It’s less work for you. It’s an easy win, too.”

“What makes you think I care about stuff like that?”

For the longest moment she just looks at him some more, half amused, half appraising, arms crossed over her chest and mouth scrunched into this weird half-frown. Jonghyun can see the no coming from the line of her shoulders and the way her eyes are narrowing, but before she can open her mouth—

“If I asked you to do it for me, would you?” comes out of his. He doesn’t care if he’s crazy, he doesn’t care if he’s getting way too personal with a noona he sees a few times every few months, he doesn’t care what he has to say to get her to say yes. He’ll say it. “You don’t know me that well and I’m telling you how to do your job, but please. This is the face my music will have. It’s the first thing I’ve done in my life.”

_Without Taeminnie, I wouldn’t have made it. I wish I could give him the parts of me he can’t have, the parts that belong to SM and the parts that belong to the fans, but this is the only way I can tell him what he means to me._

_And_ Base _is only the first album, same as_ Ace. _First mini. Just the beginning. There’s no forever in this business, our new contract is down to five years and even Taeminnie will get old…but as far as we can go, I want to hold his hand._

“Those all sound like good reasons why you should trust a professional to do your thinking for you,” the art noona says. The things Jonghyun said out loud, maybe, but not the things he didn’t. She hesitates. “Besides, I’m not the director here.”

“She listens to you, though. And SM—”

“I know, I’m the one who said it.”

That’s not a no. And even if it was, it’s not the end until she never speaks to him again. So what if she’s getting up and gathering her things, there’s still tomorrow, and the next day, and the next, right up until printing day. Which is only in a week or two, long after Creative’s nailed the details down. They had Jonghyun submit selcas for photocards just yesterday. Fuck.

“Noona~” Jonghyun whines at her as she flicks off the lights and shoulders out the door. “It means more to me than it means to you. Whatever you want, I’ll do everything.” She just shakes her head at him, but she doesn’t walk any faster. Jonghyun has until the end of the hallway. “Hanwoo set. Concert tickets. Signed promo. Signed promos, you can sell the extras and I won’t tell. Money transfer. Cash.”

“Just come up with a quote for me to put on the cover,” she says. “Something inspirational. Taeminnie wrote his own, you write yours too.”

The world outside the doors is dark and unmoving but her words hit Jonghyun like sunburst.

“Thank you, noona. Really, thank you.”

When she passes out the doors into the night he stays behind. He has hours to go in here, and after that is Blue Night. By the time he gets home Taemin might have fallen asleep on him again. But it’s okay. Jonghyun will still get to see him and touch him, and Taemin won’t hate Jonghyun if he’s loud and wakes him up. If Jonghyun kisses him he might forget to be annoyed, too. And if he doesn’t, if Taemin sleeps through everything Jonghyun tries, if Jonghyun wakes up with Taemin spread out over the bed and squashing Jonghyun into the corner instead of Taemin nestled in his arms, if Jonghyun has to leave without his good morning kiss…

Jonghyun can live with that. He doesn’t need Taemin to tell him he loves him. He knows he does.


	14. Chapter 14

“Taemin-ah.”

“What?”

“Taemin-ah~”

Taemin can feel Jonghyun’s look. Once he’s sure he won’t smile he returns it with one of his own. Almost the second Taemin meets his eyes, though, Jonghyun groans and flops back in his chair, elbow sending his bowl of jjajangmyun skittering across the counter. Taemin pushes it back towards him.

“What?” he says again.

“Whenever I buy you food I let you pick. Next time I’m getting whatever I want,” Jonghyun says.

“Maybe next time I’ll try cooking for you~” That doesn’t make Jonghyun laugh like it’s supposed to, though, he just narrows his eyes at Taemin. So Taemin tries again. “Jinki hyung said you said you couldn’t have any until you finished your MV.”

Except the day Jinki said that was the day Dahae attacked them. _Jonghyunnie said you keep asking him for jjajangmyun. Should we eat it and think of him~?_ They ate chicken instead and Taemin still thought of him. That was weeks ago already, and now it’s December and Jonghyun’s gone from the practice room to rehearsals for his showcase in the Coex Artium’s theater. And it’s just the two of them here now, eating lunch at the makeup table, since Yongdeok hyung ditched them to go out with Jonghyun’s backup dancers.

It should be okay to say that much. But what if it’s not, what if Taemin said the wrong thing?

Seconds last years until Jonghyun says normally, “I still can’t get fat. They measured me for my stage wear yesterday,” and just like that, there’s breath in Taemin’s body again, sweet, dizzying.

“You’ll lose it all during promotions anyway.” Taemin digs his chopsticks into his own bowl and lifts all the noodles he could pick up towards Jonghyun, sauce dripping. Jonghyun saves his shirt and slurps them up, trying to swallow and laugh at same time. There. Finally. Maybe he’ll laugh harder if Taemin says, “You got it all over your face.”

“The person who made the mess should clean it up,” Jonghyun tells him, and leans in and kisses Taemin’s cheek instead, there and gone. And sticky.

The dressing room door stays shut. Taemin drags his eyes away from it in the wall of mirrors and wipes Jonghyun’s kiss away with a napkin. When he moves on to Jonghyun’s lips he doesn’t think about licking them clean at all, feeling the corners of Jonghyun’s mouth crook up under his fingertips as he forms Taemin’s name.

“Taemin-ah.”

“Eat, hyung.”

Jonghyun said he would if Taemin did, that day Taemin keeps bringing up somehow. Taemin balls the napkin up and goes back to his jjajangmyun, bending low over his bowl, Jonghyun’s eyes lingering on his face, warm on his skin. Finally Jonghyun picks up his chopsticks as well, stirring his noodles, then slurping them. His foot finds Taemin’s.

“I wanted to wait until the atmosphere was right, but that’d mean waiting forever with you,” Jonghyun says with his mouth full. He leans forward to comb Taemin’s hair out of his eyes, tip his chin up. He slides something across the countertop towards Taemin, white and thick. “You’re the first person I’m showing this to.”

Jonghyun’s album.

“Base?” Taemin reads. “This is plagiarism.”

Not just the title. Everything.

“That was the idea,” Jonghyun tells him. Taemin looks up from the Jonghyun on the cover to find the real one smiling at him, dragging his chair closer until they’re pressed together from shoulder to hip. “My idea.”

“You never even told me you named it.”

“I wanted you to see.” Jonghyun pushes his shoulder into Taemin’s, prompting him, “Look inside,” and once Taemin’s barely flipped past the first page of the photobook, “The pictures came out well, right?”

Jonghyun looks good in them all, if that’s what he’s asking, if that’s what he’s trying to get out of Taemin, tickling up his side, breathing down his ear. But he always does, and he definitely doesn’t need Taemin to tell him that, so Taemin waits until he hits a picture where Jonghyun’s face is hidden by a leaf and tells him, “At least this one did.”

Jonghyun just laughs again and flicks past it, almost sending Taemin’s photocard flying onto the floor. Taemin doesn’t tell him he’s going too fast because every Jonghyun they skip past is another Jonghyun he gets to take home with him, or that it’s too soon when he reaches the end and snaps it closed. Taemin flips it over again so that it’s right side up, no idea what to say other than, “You did well, hyung.”

“Thanks to you,” Jonghyun says. He smooths his hand over _Base_ and catches Taemin’s eye. “This is the only way I could think to say it. If it weren’t for you I’d probably still be stuck in preproduction.”

“SM wouldn’t have drawn it out that long.”

“Then they would’ve gone ahead without me. This wouldn’t be my album, it would be theirs.”

Maybe. In some ways _Ace_ never felt like it was Taemin’s. But who cares about that, when the point is, “It’s yours because you fought for it. You did everything yourself, hyung.”

“Except for the things I copied from you? You have to go first again next time, so I can copy you again,” Jonghyun says. “I’m not saying I didn’t work hard for this, Taemin-ah. You don’t think I’d know better than you~?” He pokes Taemin in the side, then again when Taemin squirms away. “I only got this far because I had you. That’s all I meant.” He shoots Taemin a smile, shy and sweet. “That, and that it’s all for you.”

He’s given Taemin this same smile so many times now, when he says good night, if Taemin gets up in time to kiss him good morning, whenever Taemin says something stupid and Jonghyun thinks it’s cute, or whenever Jonghyun says something stupid and Taemin’s heart flutters. Like right now.

“You keep saying that, but you wrote most of this stuff before you even liked me.”

“Try me,” Jonghyun retorts.

So stupid. But maybe Taemin’s stupider, because his heart flutters again and, “’Love Belt,’” comes out of his mouth. “You told me you wrote it after your accident.”

“And you’re the reason I went back to it,” Jonghyun replies immediately. “I also remember telling you what it was about.”

_A comfortable love, someone who holds you when things are difficult, that kind of thing. Putting it to music is hard, but I think singing it will be harder. It should be a duet. If I had to pick someone…Lee Taemin-ssi?_

Jonghyun didn’t realize he was playing with Taemin’s heart then and he probably doesn’t remember things that way now, now that he’s blinded by love. Which, fine. Taemin will let him have that one. “’Neon.’”

Jonghyun barely has to think about it before he’s saying, “That one’s about the same kind of thing. My world is dull without you. When it’s dark, you shine brighter.” Jonghyun returns Taemin’s look with another smile. “You always did for me. It just took me too long to know what I was seeing.”

“’Deja-Boo.’ ‘Beautiful Tonight.’”

Jonghyun wrote them both years ago. Taemin leans back against the counter, propping his cheek up on his fist while he watches Jonghyun come up with something. Which he does, again.

“’Deja-Boo’…it’s about falling for someone when you feel like you’ve met before. When I fell for you I saw you for the first time all over again.”

Isn’t that what he just said in different words? Whatever. Somehow Taemin’s face is heating up.

“Was it like that for you?” he says. “You’re the same Jonghyun hyung I knew before. I feel like I’m the one who changed.”

“You’re the one who keeps talking about how you didn’t like me before,” Jonghyun accuses him. “What does that even mean, that you were blind before or that you’re blind now?” Before Taemin can even try and answer, Jonghyun’s taking it back. “Never mind, don’t answer that.”

Taemin ignores the part of him that wants to hide over his bowl and tells Jonghyun what he already knows. “I never said I disliked you. I just never thought about you like that, until I did.”

“I’m changing my answer,” Jonghyun says. “’Deja-Boo’ because you were always mine, you just didn’t know it yet.”

Taemin’s stomach did not just flip over. “Aigoo.”

“’Deja-Boo’ because you’re my boo,” Jonghyun tries again, in that voice that means he’s being stupid on purpose. At the look on Taemin’s face Jonghyun smiles wider and goes on, “As for ‘Beautiful Tonight,’ you’re beautiful every night. What, you think that doesn’t count? You are, though.” Taemin isn’t thinking anything, he’s just sitting here eating his jjajangmyun. Jonghyun should too before it gets cold, not tuck Taemin’s hair behind his ear and thumb sauce off his cheek and say, “Fine. The night it’s about, you were there with me.”

“Uh huh.”

“We were coming home from a music show and the moon was really pretty. The others and manager hyung were with us, but I don’t remember them, I just remember you. You fell asleep on me in the van and when I woke you up you asked me why it was still dark out. I guess you thought it was morning.”

“Sometimes I like waking up early, because then I get to go back to sleep. It’s like I found time I didn’t know I had,” Taemin says. “Every time I ask you to wake me up you never do.”

Jonghyun presses another kiss to Taemin’s cheek. When he draws away this time Taemin keeps his eyes on his face. If the door opens he’ll hear it, but it won’t. They have a while yet.

“Thank you for lunch, Taeminnie. I’ll eat well~”

Taemin should probably let him, not prompt him, “And ’Hallelujah?’ You didn’t even write the lyrics for that one.”

Jonghyun slurps up his noodles and lowers his chopsticks again, telling him through a mouthful of half-chewed jjajangmyun, “I asked Wheesung hyung to write them because I couldn’t put you into words. When I first heard the demo, it reminded me of you. The way you make me feel.” Too late, Jonghyun remembers himself and covers his mouth with his hand, like Taemin cares. That was the least gross thing Jonghyun’s said to him this whole conversation. It was also the sweetest. “We’ve been working on choreo for it, by the way. Stick around after this? I wanted to show you, and maybe you can help me with it.” Jonghyun barely gets that out before he’s rushing to add, “And just so you know for later, that wasn’t a line, that one doesn’t count. I meant like you did with ‘Deja-Boo.’”

That must mean the choreo is sexy. Which means Taemin will have an afternoon of Jonghyun thrusting his hips and rolling his body and practicing his sexy face, and somehow he has to survive until tonight. And in the meantime, he’s down to half his bowl of noodles and one song left.

“What about ‘Monodrama?’”

Jonghyun pulls Taemin’s copy of _Base_ back towards him, smile fading. He smooths his fingertips over his own face, staring up at them both from the cover.

“That one’s about myself. The idol and the person.”

 

Taemin sticks around as long as he can without getting in the way. Jonghyun can’t kiss him goodbye, but he won’t let Taemin go without a hug. Even sweaty and stinky, Taemin would be fine never letting go of him ever, but they’re not starring in a drama, so he squeezes Jonghyun extra tight and tells him, “’Hallelujah’ isn’t too sexy for music shows, but won’t the atmosphere be wrong? It’ll probably be really embarrassing for you~,” and leaves him to the dancer hyungs. He remembers his phone exists in the hallway and turns it on, and that’s it. Maybe Jonghyun will text him later. Maybe Taemin will think of something to say and text him first.

He barely walks five steps when it buzzes against his thigh, like electricity to Taemin’s heart. He digs it out of his pocket, telling himself it can’t be Jonghyun, they last saw each other a minute ago and Jonghyun hasn’t even gotten through half the song…and then it’s not him anyway. Minho.

_hong dahae keeps asking me for ur number. not hyungs, urs._

_i dont get it._

_did something happen with hyung?_

_right now im just telling you. i dont want to make him have to think about it._

Then why is he making Taemin? But that’s stupid, he just said that Dahae asked for him. And it’s not like Minho would know why. Only Jinki does so far. And now Taemin doesn’t know anything. _dont tell him._ Minho already said he wouldn’t. _nothing happened._ That’s a lie, and sooner or later Minho will know that. And it’s Minho. Before Taemin can type anything else, though, Minho goes on.

_its so awkward filming with her now._

_i wish my character would hurry up and move out of his parents house. or that hers would hurry up and get married. mine doesnt even have a love interest_

_dont worry taemin-ah. i can keep telling her no. i dont mind._

“Taemin-ah.” Huh? “Taemin-ah!” Oh. Yongdeok hyung. Taemin watches as Yongdeok hyung slows to a walk for the length of the hallway and comes up to him. “Jonghyunnie said you forgot this.”

Yongdeok holds something out for Taemin to take. His hat. “Oh. Yeah.”

“Aigoo. He could’ve given it to you later, but he said you walked here. Do you want a ride home?”

Taemin pulls his hat over his head, snug over his ears, warmer than his phone is heavy. So much warmer, from his fingertips to his toes to his heart. He’ll probably feel normal again out in the cold, it’ll cancel out. But for now…“I’m okay.”

“I’m not, I’m bored out of my fucking mind,” Yongdeok hyung says, heading for the doors. “Let’s go.”

Taemin follows him out to the van. The last time he buckled himself into this seat he was so tired he thought he’d never get up, and Yongdeok hyung was bringing him home to an empty room. The dorm is probably empty right now, but Taemin left their bed unmade and last night’s clothes are still on the floor, his and Jonghyun’s tangled together. Plus Minho’s PlayStation has probably been lonely without him, and Jongin is back in Korea until Christmas.

“How have you been?” Yongdeok hyung says as he pulls out into traffic.

“Good. What about you?”

Yongdeok hyung gives him half a look and repeats, “Bored.”

Taemin laughs. “Don’t worry, you won’t be for long. Promotions are coming up~”

“Aigoo. Too much to do is better than nothing.”

When Taemin glances up at Yongdeok hyung he’s watching the road, no eye contact. So it’s okay if Taemin turns towards his window and says to the world outside, “Take care of him for me.” Before Yongdeok hyung can even reply, he adds quickly, “I know it’s your job, I know I don’t have to ask. It’s just, hyung’s never done this alone. He doesn’t know how lonely it gets.”

“You two are funny.” Taemin doesn’t have to look at him to know he’s smiling. “He asked me the same thing when I was managing you.”

What else is Taemin supposed to do, when he can’t take care of Jonghyun himself? He can’t even try. If he gets him at all it’ll be in text messages, five minute phone calls with twenty other people around to listen to Jonghyun’s half, visits to broadcasting stations, maybe driving all the way to MBC at two a.m. just to drive Jonghyun home so Taemin can hold him while he sleeps. Yongdeok hyung doesn’t know how lucky he is, being stuck with Jonghyun twenty-four seven. He has the best job on earth.

Taemin is pretty sure Yongdeok hyung would try to argue if he told him that, though, so he sticks with, “Make sure he eats. He forgets to do that. Plus stress makes him lose weight.”

“It’d be nice if it did that for me,” Yongdeok hyung says. “Did I let you starve?”

No, but it still took Taemin weeks to get back up to his normal weight after promotions ended. That’d mean weeks of Jonghyun hating himself. He’ll be too tired to fuck and Taemin won’t know how else to tell him how much he wants him.

But again, none of that is stuff he can say to Yongdeok hyung. So instead Taemin asks him, “Have they said where you’re going when you’re done with hyung?”

Yongdeok hyung shrugs. “Wherever there’s a gap, I guess.”

“Next time I go solo I’m asking for you,” Taemin says. “I don’t want to have to get to know someone all over again.”

“If I’m not busy with another group, sure.” Yongdeok hyung hesitates, drumming his fingers on the wheel. Then, almost carefully, “You were the first solo artist I managed, so I didn’t know what to expect—if it’d be easier because that’s less people to handle, or harder because you’d have no one else to talk to besides me.” Yongdeok hyung smiles. “For a couple weeks there you didn’t talk at all.”

That’s how long it took Taemin to get to know him, is all.

“What about hyung, does he talk to you now?”

“I’d say Jonghyunnie’s at a higher level than you. We can communicate.”

Whatever that means.

“Hyung.” For the longest time that’s all Taemin can say. But the light turns green and traffic keeps moving, and it only would’ve taken him half an hour to get back, walking. “I don’t know how to say this, but thank you.”

“What for?” Yongdeok hyung says.

“You were the first person to find out about me that I didn’t tell,” Taemin gets out. He can feel Yongdeok hyung’s eyes on his face, but he keeps his on his lap. He can look or he can say this out loud, but not both. “Thank you for not treating me differently. For not hating me.”

“Aigoo. Why would I hate you?”

“I don’t know. A lot of people would, though.”

Silence. Then, “Are you talking about Hong Dahae-ssi?”

She’s only one person. There are lot more people out there who’d say the same shit she did, if they saw Taemin kiss a man. There are people who would do worse. Maybe Jonghyun is right, maybe there’s something wrong with this world, but Taemin’s not stupid. He knows how it works. And yet the world outside his window looks the same as ever, pretty white snow, people who would’ve nodded at him when he passed them on the sidewalk, while her name crawls under his skin and sinks its teeth into his heart.

“How much did you hear?” Taemin says.

“Enough,” Yongdeok hyung replies. He leans over to pat Taemin’s knee awkwardly. “There are always going to be people like her, Taemin-ah. It has nothing to do with you.”

“How was she, afterwards?” It’s the last thing Taemin wanted to say, but he said it. No take backs. “Did she say anything else?”

“Aigoo,” Yongdeok hyung sighs again. “That’s another question Jonghyunnie already asked. You two are really funny. Do you really want to know?”

The second Taemin sneaks a glance at him Yongdeok hyung catches his eye.

Taemin doesn’t need to ask, his heart shouldn’t be caught in his throat. He should know better. But somehow he doesn’t. “Did hyung?”

So Yongdeok hyung tells him what he already knows. “No.” He takes his eyes off Taemin’s face to make a turn, then keeps them on the road, asking him, “Do you?”

“No.”

It’s so easy to tell Yongdeok hyung that, but it’s so hard to sit there in silence afterwards. Jonghyun didn’t want to know about her, but he still asked. That’s probably because he thought he had to. Because they shared a year of their lives together, because he gave Dahae parts of himself he never got back. Because Jonghyun is a good person, a better person than Taemin will ever be, and when he hurts someone, it hurts him too, even when that someone has done nothing but hurt him since the moment she first touched him. Because he’s Jonghyun.

Yongdeok hyung doesn’t say goodbye, just grunts and nods at Taemin, so Taemin grunts and nods back, before he remembers to smile at him. Even though he lingers to watch the van turn the corner he’s out of the cold so quickly he barely has time to feel it, but then the elevator takes ten million years, and he’s stuck alone with his phone for all of them. He can text Jongin in a minute, but first…But first. He gets it over with.

_jonghyunnie hyung is fine._

_thanks for not giving her my number_

_but could u tell her ill meet with her?_

_she can pick the time and place_

_u probably think this is weird but itll make sense later_

_thanks hyung_

 

“Doesn’t Minho hyung own anything besides Fifa?”

The second Taemin tears his eyes off the screen to glance at Jongin, Jongin scores a goal on him. Whatever. The score was already three-zero.

“Soccer is all he cares about,” Taemin tells Jongin as his players return to the center ring. He loses the ball right away, and the fastest way to get it back would probably be to let Jongin score again. “If his dad had let him, he would’ve gone pro instead of joining SM. Should I get him something different for his birthday?”

“Is that this week?” Jongin asks.

Taemin nods, before he remembers Jongin isn’t looking. “Tuesday. What’s come out lately?”

“I haven’t had time to play in like three months, Taemin-ah. How would I know?”

Fair enough. “Was the last time the time we played Smash Brothers with Soojungie?”

“Mm. You still remember that?”

“Jinri told me she was quitting that day.” Taemin digs his toes into Jongin’s thigh. “What about you?”

When Jongin doesn’t grab Taemin’s ankle or laugh or even smile to himself, Taemin’s stuck poking him again, burrowing his foot into the soft underside of Jongin’s knee. Should he have said Soojung’s name again, done half the work? But Jongin just pauses the game and turns to him and says, “What about me?”

Taemin’s phone buzzes against his thigh. He reaches for it on automatic. Jonghyun. Jonghyun, Jonghyun, Jonghyun.

_taeminah~_

_what_

_whatre you doing_

_playing fifa w jonginnie_

_how did they give u a break this fast_

_its been 4 hours taeminnie._

_u dont miss me at all_

_?_

_its been 4 hours?_

For the longest time Jonghyun doesn’t respond. And then it’s just, tell jonginnie i said hi. Did Taemin say the wrong thing again or something? He can’t get it right today. All he can do is try again.

_i miss u_

He barely taps send before Jonghyun texts him back, _i miss u too._ That’s better. When he flops down on the couch his controller slips off his thigh and onto the floor and his foot runs up against Jongin’s leg, because Fifa. Jongin. Taemin’s phone buzzes another ten times as he struggles to sit up, and Jongin’s unpaused the game again. He’ll probably score another fifty times, but Taemin won’t get to talk to Jonghyun again for another fifty million years.

_anyway forgot earlier_

_kibummie cant do tuesday but its his birthday. plus its the only day i can so were going ahead_

_night i mean. dinner. i talked Director-nim into ending rehearsal an hour early~_

Taemin hesitates, then drops his controller for his phone, just this one last time. _without kibum hyung?_

_with me though,_ Jonghyun replies immediately. _thats the main point._

“Who are you texting?” Jongin asks finally.

“Hyung.”

_might as well get jinki hyung over with too_

_then whos cooking?_

_not u taeminnie_

_order something they both like. hyung will pay u back_

_we can split it._

“Jonghyunnie hyung,” Jongin guesses.

“Mm.”

“Your boyfriend.”

“Mm.”

Wait, what? Taemin looks up to find Jongin looking like he half wants to strangle him, half wants to give up on life.

“Did you forget to tell me or something?” Jongin demands. “I had to find out from Soojungie.” Once that’s out there, he rushes to add, “Don’t worry, she only told me. She also told me not to tell anyone, but you don’t count.”

“You’re the only person I told about me and him originally,” Taemin says stupidly. “I forgot I had to tell you again.”

“Taemin-aaaaah.”

Jongin flops back into the cushions with a whump and drags his hands over his face, TV forgotten. Taemin tries to be a good friend and not take advantage, setting his controller aside yet again and leaving the second half of their game to tick down on its own. Poking Jongin. Scooting closer. Taking Jongin by the wrists and dragging his hands away from his face. Commanding him, “Be happy things worked out for me. I am, I’m really happy.” Teasing him, “I’m no good at talking about me. Do you want to hear about hyung~? There’s a lot I could say. A lot, a lot.”

“There’s a lot more you couldn’t, knowing you. But that’s all stuff I don’t want to know, and that’s not the point anyway.” Jongin narrows his eyes at Taemin. “I tell you everything.”

“So what about you and Soojungie?” Taemin prompts him. “I told you, it’s only fair.”

For one long moment Jongin just looks at him.

Then he says, “There’s nothing to tell. Really. There won’t be for a while, either. We’re making a comeback in the spring.”

It’ll have been almost a year since “Overdose” by then. It’s been over that since “Everybody” for Taemin and the others.

“It’s looking like we will too,” Taemin says, instead of playing dumb and telling Jongin, _That has nothing to do with you and Soojungie, though._ “Once hyung finishes promotions I’m guessing they’ll bring us in to talk about it.”

“They already talked to us.”

When Jongin brings them back to the menu screen Taemin turns from Jongin to the television like he’s supposed to. He still doesn’t know what to say, though. “Have you heard the song?”

“We recorded a whole bunch this year, and now they have it narrowed down to two,” Jongin replies. “Whichever one I hate less will probably get dumped on the repackage.”

Taemin laughs at him. “You should’ve debuted in Shinee with me.”

“I don’t listen to you guys, either,” Jongin retorts, but that’s a smile he’s biting back. Taemin sees right through him. Or maybe not at all, because the next thing out of his mouth is, “And who knows, if maybe I would’ve gotten in the way of you and hyung~”

Taemin’s face heats up all on its own, and before he can even think he’s saying, “He already gets weird about you, so don’t get weird about him. One of you is enough.”

Yeah, that’s definitely a smile. “Weird how?”

“Never mind.”

“Taemin-ah.”

Taemin tells himself to shut up, but somehow he’s telling Jonghyun, “Soojungie said I shouldn’t hang out with guys at all, but it’s not like that. It’s probably because everyone used to joke about you and me. They still do. I don't know how to get them to stop, we can't just tell people.”

“What is he worried about? If I liked men I’d probably like you, but you do and you don’t like me,” Jongin says, somewhere between a statement and an accusation. Taemin cracks before Jongin does, but only by a second, and then Jongin’s laugh sounds so stupid he just makes it worse. When their smiles fade and they can breathe again and the whistle blows for the next game to start, Jongin finally says it. The thing he spent the last five minutes not saying. “They said they’re getting rid of EXO-K and EXO-M after this.”

“It makes sense, I guess. It’s not like Yixing hyung and Zitao don’t know Korean,” Taemin says. “Getting rid of subunits doesn’t mean they’re getting rid of them.”

“They’re probably getting ready for them to leave, Taemin-ah. It’s not like they’ve given them any reason to stay, either.”

“Have they said they want out?” Taemin asks.

“Zitao hyung, kinda. I don’t know if he really means it or if he’s just pissed right now. I am too, but I’m Korean, I have nowhere else to go~.” Jongin catches the look on Taemin’s face and smiles faintly. “They’re editing Han hyung’s voice out of everything we recorded last year. Even the demos.”

Taemin can’t imagine what Shinee would sound like if SM tried that on them. He doesn’t try very hard, though. Just the thought puts this bitter taste in his mouth, and saying, “I thought you guys weren’t that close,” like an idiot does nothing to get it out.

“I saw him every day of my life for the last two years,” Jongin tells Taemin, even though he shouldn’t have to. He sighs like an old man. “After the shit with Yifan hyung and Baekhyun hyung, this whole past year…I just want something to go right. Once we have our comeback behind us, then I can think of other things.”

“Like yourself,” Taemin says, as gently as he can.

“Mm.”

“I got so tired of that. I decided I’m just going to do what I want from now on.”

Jongin laughs, glancing over at Taemin. “Hyung is your first love, right?”

“No,” Taemin says, too quick to decide if he’s even lying or not. “He’s not even the first person I’ve dated, I had a girlfriend in high school. You met her.”

“This is the first time you’ve been in love, I meant.”

Oh. Taemin could try and lie again, but he has no reason to, any more than his ears have a reason to be getting this hot. “Yeah.”

Jongin just smiles some more. “What’s it like?”

He should probably ask someone else. Jonghyun, maybe. Taemin can’t even put normal feelings into words. Still, it’s Jongin, and whatever Taemin comes up with he won’t laugh at him.

“When I turned him down I was scared we’d break up and lose what we already had, that we couldn’t go back to being hyung-dongsaeng,” Taemin says slowly. “I’m not scared of what will happen after we break up at all now. There’s no point when I don’t think I could survive breaking up.”

“Taemin-ah~,” Jongin groans.

“I’m just not going to think about things going wrong,” Taemin tells him.

Jongin’s smile fades. “That’s all I can think about right now.”

“With Soojungie?”

“Mm.”

“And with EXO.”

Jongin scores yet another goal and the crowd goes crazy. “Mm.”

“If you guys had five members like us you’d make so much more than me,” Taemin tries. “With nine you still might. You’ll probably sell a million albums this time.”

No good. Jongin doesn’t laugh like he was supposed to, just pokes one finger into Taemin’s side and says, “You always make that joke whenever we talk about this.”

“I never know what else to say.”

For the longest time that’s all. Jongin wins another two games. Taemin fucks with the settings, steals his controller and finds Jongin the worst team he can, gets up and stands in front of the TV and blocks his view, whatever it takes, until finally, _finally_ he wins and Jongin laughs again. And then he sits back down and goes back to losing. No more mercy from Jongin and no more texts from Jonghyun. He’s almost forgotten his phone exists when Jongin makes him order lunch. Jongin’s been on a diet all year and now with their comeback he’s stuck, so Taemin is nice and gets Chinese, but Jongin just wedges his foot into Taemin’s thigh and demands sweet and sour pork.

Once Taemin does what he’s told Jongin asks him out of nowhere, “Do you listen to EXO?”

“No.” Jongin gives him a look. “What? You just said you didn’t listen to Shinee.” Another look. Taemin could return it, if his face didn’t decide to smile instead. “You have to listen to Jonghyunnie hyung, by the way. If his song sells they’ll let him promote with it. ‘Deja-Boo.’”

“Aigoo. I’ll buy it at least.”

“It’s good.”

“Uh huh.”

Does he think Taemin is biased or something? “Whatever, you have bad taste anyway.”

Jongin laughs out loud. “Look who’s talking. I mean…Soojungie versus hyung. That’s all I’m saying.”

“That makes no sense,” Taemin retorts. “How do you even compare them?”

“Good taste and bad taste,” Jongin replies.

Jongin doesn’t even like men, what does he know? And anyway, Minho might be the visual, but Jonghyun’s always had the most fans. At least Taemin is pretty sure. Noonas at Taemin’s school used to follow him around asking for Jonghyun’s number, and as many girls as Jonghyun dated, there were twice as many who liked him on their own. There probably still are. Too bad he only wants Taemin~

“Yeah, Jonghyunnie hyung has good taste and Soojungie has bad,” Taemin says. “He likes me and she likes you.”

Jongin hesitates. “She said that?”

“She said she wasn’t sure if she’d date you, but she likes you. I think she’s still dealing with what happened to Jinri.” That’s everything, except, just to be safe, “And don’t tell her I told you. Telling her counts.”

Just then Taemin’s phone buzzes to life in his pocket. He’s already reaching for it when Jongin smiles into the couch cushions and says, “Tell hyung I said hi back.”

_just get chicken taeminnie_

_that way we dont have to get jinki hyung a present_

 

Taemin gets him soju, too.

“Taemin-aaaaaah.”

Lots of it.

“Proud of you, Taeminnie.”

Lots and lots. Jinki’s foot pushes into Taemin’s shoulder, then again, until finally Taemin rolls onto his back to look at him instead of the TV. Jinki smiles down at Taemin from the couch. There would’ve been enough room for four people if Jinki weren’t sprawled out drunk across half the couch. Or if Taemin had let Jonghyun catch him in the circle of his arms and sat on his lap instead of dodging him and lying on the floor instead. But that’d be dangerous, Jonghyun all warm and solid beneath him, breath teasing the hairs at the nape of Taemin’s neck, and Minho still lives in a world where it would be weird.

Taemin rolls back over. “What for?”

Jinki takes a minute to think that one over, then tells Taemin, “Our maknae debuted~” Yeah. Months and months ago. How drunk is he? “I knew you’d do well but I was worried. Does that make sense?”

No, but only in that way Jinki never does. Even if Taemin’s smile looks half as stupid as it feels Minho and Jonghyun won’t see how see, so it’s okay. Except Jonghyun makes a low amused sound, sliding onto the floor behind Taemin and stretching to pinch his cheek.

“What about me?” Jonghyun says to Jinki.

“You too,” Jinki agrees. “To be honest I thought you wouldn’t make it. I thought you’d argue with them forever.”

Would it count as weird if Taemin scooted back and laid his head in Jonghyun’s lap? Whatever. He’s used Jonghyun’s arm as a pillow for years, Minho’s too, and it’s not that different using his thigh. Except for all the ways it is. Jonghyun smiling down at him, Jonghyun’s hand sneaking into his hair to play with it.

“Why are you asking about yourself? It’s my birthday.” Jonghyun laughs at Minho, but Minho ignores him and turns to Jinki. “What about me, hyung?”

Jinki needs another minute. At last he says, “You haven’t told me I’m drunk yet. Good job.”

“Yet,” Minho agrees.

He’s had all night, too. Jonghyun only showed up around ten, but Minho got out at seven, and Jinki had long since started by then. Taemin’s been stuck with him all day. He woke up to find him still at home, and when he went to the convenience store to get beer for the party, Jinki offered to drive. He said it was only so they could go together to pick the cake afterwards, but the minute they got there he disappeared into the liquor section. Jinki also said he’d pay, but it was for his birthday, so that’s Taemin’s money he’s drinking.

Jinki does better on his second attempt. “Good actor. The best.” Taemin cranes up to look at him in time to catch him giving Minho a thumbs up. “Watched your show. Your parts at least.”

“And Kibummie?” Jonghyun prompts him, winding Taemin’s hair around his fingers. At Minho’s look he says, “He would’ve come tonight if he could’ve. He said to tell you to remind him this week, by the way. Otherwise he’ll probably forget.”

Taemin doesn’t have to look to know the face Minho is making. It’s all there in his voice. “Maybe he’ll remember to get me a present on his own, who knows.”

“Kibummie is cute,” Jinki declares.

Minho doesn’t think so, not at all, but who cares about that. It’s not like Kibum came for Taemin’s birthday, either. Although Taemin didn’t plan on going himself, until Jonghyun came and got him and fed him tteokbokki. Taemin got drunk that night, too, but only a little. Nothing like Jinki. The more he sat there looking at Jonghyun across the table the more beautiful Jonghyun got, moonlight in his hair, summer night caressing his skin, lips red with sauce, and the more Taemin drank the less he remembered why that was bad. So he stopped drinking. And now half a year later the world has frozen over and somehow Jonghyun is his, and Taemin doesn’t need to get drunk to let himself think about kissing him. He’s thinking about kissing him right now.

But Minho. Yeah. When Jinki catches Taemin smiling up at him he smiles back. Taemin has to ask him, “And you, hyung, what about you?”

This one is easy.

“I’m a good drinker. Better than all of you.” Jinki shakes his head, then holds it in his hands, like that made him dizzy. Into his palms, he says, “You guys know hyung loves you, right? Proud of you. Shining Shinee.”

Minho sighs and flips to the next page in his script. “What are you going to do on your real birthday, get drunk again?”

“Your birthday is bad enough. Every time you get older I do too.”

Jinki struggles upright and pitching forward to squish Minho’s cheeks between his hands until his lips fold and pucker like a blowfish.

Somehow Minho gets out, “How is that my fault?”

“It’s Taeminnie’s. Why did you buy so much?” Jonghyun demands, tugging at Taemin’s hair and frowning down at him. The second Taemin smiles he cracks, smiling too. He’s so easy.

“That reminds me, you said you’d pay for half.”

Of the chicken and nothing else, but still, Jonghyun agrees, “I did.” So easy. Except his mouth curls and his eyes are so dark, staring into Taemin’s, and he says, “With money or my body?” in this voice that probably shouldn’t make Taemin’s whole body go hot.

“Money,” he blurts out, before he can even think. He can change his mind later. But for now he ignores Jonghyun’s eyes are crinkling up and Jonghyun’s fingertips sneaking under his collar to ask Minho loudly, “Do you want to watch a movie or something? There’s nothing good on.”

“Some other time, Taeminnie. I have to get up tomorrow.” Minho stretches, groaning, before he turns to Jonghyun. “Don’t you have to go soon, anyway?”

Jonghyun drags his eyes from Taemin’s face to glance at the clock. “In…ten minutes?”

Minho nods. “What are you going to do about Blue Night when promotions come around, just not sleep?”

“I’ve been sleeping better lately. Less, but better,” Jonghyun says. Then, shooting Taemin another smile, “Ask Taeminnie, he’d know.”

When he tugs at Taemin’s hair again he showers Taemin with sparks and twists his stomach tighter. Taemin forces himself to sit up and keep his eyes on Minho’s face, even when Jonghyun’s hand slides towards his and their fingertips meet. “You look like you haven’t slept in a week, hyung.”

All that means he looks slightly less perfect than normal, but Minho scrubs his hands over his face and sighs like an old man. “Not in my bed, I haven’t.”

“Taeminnie hasn’t either.” Jinki says it totally out of nowhere, words hitting Taemin like a truck and leaving him dizzy. He gestures between Taemin and Jonghyun clumsily. “Or maybe it’s Jonghyunnie? One of you two.”

Minho’s brow wrinkles, like Jinki is speaking English or something. “Huh?”

Jonghyun needs to do something. Say something. It’s like Taemin’s stomach has opened into a black hole, sucking every thought out of his body and leaving this big echoing blank in his head where words should be. The first thing is probably getting to his feet and the second is dragging Jinki off to bed or maybe body slamming Jinki, covering his mouth—

“That’s why your underwear was in Jonghyunnie’s bed,” Jinki tells Taemin. “How did it end up under his pillow, though?”

That isn’t Minho’s WTF face, though, that’s his Jinki-hyung-makes-no-sense face, and his only question is, “What is he even talking about?” Before Taemin can tell him Nothing, Minho scratches his head and gets to his feet. “He’s drunker than I thought. Maybe we should put him to bed?”

When Minho leans over Jinki, Jinki shakes his head at him blearily, twisting away.

“Everything I can think of is too dirty,” he goes on, like no one said anything. “I know what they both look like naked, too. Shit.”

“What are you talking about?” Minho repeats, only louder this time.

Taemin’s muscles are like marshmallows, and if he opens his mouth he doesn’t know what’ll come out, laughter or something crazy like _He’s talking about me and Jonghyun hyung being boyfriends._

“Nothing,” Taemin begins, but that’s crazier. And a lie. Jonghyun and him are definitely not nothing, and Minho’s going to find out anyway, and maybe they should just tell him right now. It won’t ruin his birthday, right? It shouldn’t. Taemin can just tell him—

“Never mind,” Jinki cuts him off. Then, “Jonghyunnie stole them. Let’s just go with that.”

Taemin’s legs fold under him, so he gives up and sits on them. Lets this crazy crazy feeling ricochet up and down his insides. Behind him Jonghyun rises to his feet.

Minho rounds on Jonghyun and Taemin, standing over them, thunderstruck. “What the fuck is hyung talking about?”

“They’re together,” Jinki says helpfully. “Together-together.”

“I’m asking the non-drunk people right now,” Minho says over him. “Seriously, _what?”_

“They’re fucking. They’re dating and they’re in love and they’re fucking, and Taeminnie’s underwear ended up under Jonghyunnie’s pillow. Somehow.”

Jonghyun reaches for Taemin, taking him by the elbow, taking his weight, helping him up. When his hand slides down Taemin’s arm to close over his wrist, gentle and warm, Taemin turns in his grip and tangles their fingers together. Jonghyun holds on tight. He hates sweaty palms, but he loves Taemin. They’re not doing anything wrong, or weird, or gross, or crazy. Though Taemin can’t blame Minho for thinking that last thing, eyes widening as they travel from Jonghyun’s face to Taemin’s, then down to their hands. They’re almost popping out of his head when he raises them to Taemin’s face again. And somehow that makes it so much easier for Taemin to meet them.

When Minho opens his mouth nothing comes out for the longest time, until finally it’s, “What????”

“They’re together,” Jinki repeats loudly. “Jonghyunnie and Taeminnie. Together.”

“I have ears, I heard you. WHAT?????”

Taemin can’t help it. He laughs. Laughs and laughs and laughs, until his stomach hurts and there are tears pricking his eyes and the only thing keeping him on his feet is Jonghyun, and the feeling inside him bursts out into the open air.

 

It takes all three of them to put Jinki to bed, probably because Minho is completely useless, boggling at Jonghyun and Taemin in turns until finally Taemin says, “What, hyung?” and Minho lies and says, “Nothing,” shouldering between them to peel off Jinki’s socks. By the time they finish cleaning up it’s past time for Jonghyun to go. Minho offers to drive him, says he wants to say hello to Heeyeon and the staff. All Jonghyun has to say to any of that is, “Do you want to come too, Taemin-ah? Minho might be Heeyeon-ssi’s favorite, but you’re mine~”

Minho’s face falls open, eyes darting between the two of them, but all that comes out of his mouth is, “What about Jinki hyung?”

“What about him?” Jonghyun retorts. “He’s used to drinking alone, he must be used to taking care of himself too. And he’s asleep.”

Plus, “It’s not his real birthday, like you said before.” The smile Jonghyun throws Taemin is so bright it leaves him dizzy. “Hang on, let me find my coat.”

It’s only a thirty minute car ride to MBC at this time of night, but that’s thirty less minutes Taemin has to wait for him to come back, and thirty extra minutes of Jonghyun. And Minho, but who cares about that. Minho found out and he didn’t blow up or laugh at them, and he doesn’t say anything now when Jonghyun takes Taemin’s hand on the way out the door, pulling it into the pocket of his coat, no matter how much Minho’s face says he really, really wants to. Or when Jonghyun heads for the stairs instead of the elevator. Or when Jonghyun shoots Taemin stupid happy smiles and Taemin smiles right back, any of the million times that happens. Minho lasts all the way out to his car, until Jonghyun passes on shotgun and slides into the backseat with Taemin, and he’s stuck with the two of them in his rearview mirror.

“What is this?” he demands. “It’s my birthday and I’m tired, and I’m driving you and everything.”

“Would you rather sit next to me or next to your girlfriend?” Jonghyun counters. “If you had one. A girl you wish you were dating, then.”

“It’s Taeminnie, though,” Minho says helplessly. Which, what is that supposed to mean? Minho’s too busy putting his head down to tell him, and when he finds it in himself to start the car and pull out into the street, it’s only with the warning, “Don’t make out back there. Seriously, if you don’t want to die, don’t. I might crash or something, I can’t get used to this.”

Jonghyun bites back his smirk, but it’s in his voice when he says, “I’ll try, but I don’t know how long I can control myself.”

Taemin laughs.

“It’s my glasses.” They’re new, since Hong Dahae broke his old pair. “They’re cute, right?”

“Your hat is too,” Jonghyun agrees, reaching over to tug on one of the flaps. “Everything about you is.”

“Oh my God,” Minho moans, fumbling for the radio and flipping channels until he lands on American pop music, loud and bubbly and sounding something like Taemin feels inside.

“Is it really that weird?” Taemin says over Taylor Swift shaking it off. “Hyung used to say that kind of stuff about me all the time.”

“Don’t call me that, you don’t have to anymore,” Jonghyun says, before Minho can even form words. When Taemin looks at him he catches Jonghyun’s mouth twitching, before he swallows his laughter and says with a straight face, “Call me what you call me when we’re alone.”

“What?”

“You know.” Taemin doesn’t. He really, really doesn’t, not when Jonghyun widens his eyes at him, not when he picks up Taemin’s hand from the seat between them, playing with his fingers, and especially not when Jonghyun pouts at him. “Are you embarrassed of me or something, jagiya? Don’t be embarrassed. Jagiya~”

“Oh. Right.” Taemin can’t laugh. He really, really, really can’t. But he can’t say it either. He really, really, really, _really—_ “Jagiya.”

He said it. He said it he said it he said it.

“This is a joke.” Minho cranes back to snatch a look at them. “You’re setting me up. Jinki hyung is in on it. Right?”

“He’s saying our love is a lie, jagiya,” Jonghyun tells Taemin.

Taemin’s ears were already hot but now his face betrays him, breaking into this crazy smile, laughter bubbling up his throat and popping in his mouth. He has to hide in his hands, but that does no good, that just has Minho saying, “See? I knew it. You can stop now, hyung, you’re torturing Taeminnie more than me. Really, this is too far.”

“It’s not me, it’s you, Minho-yah. You know how shy Taeminnie is.”

“I know how you are, too.”

Taemin says loudly, “We’re not lying. Not about us dating, at least. The jagiya thing…”

“Thing? I’m upset, jagiya,” Jonghyun says, in this voice that’s crazy with laughter. Then, for Minho’s benefit, “Look me up in Taeminnie’s phone if you don’t believe me, you’ll see~”

“You did that yourself,” Taemin retorts, too fast, heat rising up his cheeks. His ears are going to burn right off his head at this rate, and it doesn’t help when Jonghyun runs his finger over the shell of one. “You’re the one who keeps calling me baby.” But that just makes it worse, saying that out loud, and what if he’s embarrassed Jonghyun now. “I don’t mind, I was just saying.”

“That again,” Jonghyun says. What? Oh. I don’t mind. The shower. Naked, wet Jonghyun. I don’t mind switching. I don’t mind hearing about other people. I don’t mind if you hold me. _I really wouldn’t mind if we stopped talking about this in front of Minho hyung._ Taemin takes his hands away from his face to cover Jonghyun’s mouth, too late. “You like it fine when you’re about to—”

Taemin leans in and kisses him instead. The moment Jonghyun breaks into a smile Taemin feels it, Jonghyun’s teeth pressing into his lips, his low huffed laugh that Taemin swallows. But he kisses Taemin back, too, stroking his thumb over his cheek and sinking his hand into Taemin’s hair, before he draws away to smile some more at the look he put on Taemin’s face. That or all the noise Minho is making up front, his head hitting his headrest over and over, hands strangling the steering wheel, desperate crazy almost-laugh, eyes so wide as he shouts, “YAH! What did I say.”

“You can call me anything you want and I won’t dislike it, but to me you’re just Jonghyunnie hyung,” is all Taemin is going to say.

“If you say so, jagiya~”

Jonghyun’s hand follows Taemin back to his side of the car, sneaking under his jacket, looking for skin to pinch or tickle. It takes both of Taemin’s to drag it back out, and then he has to sit on it.

“Let’s just turn around,” Minho says. “I need soju.”

“Jinki hyung drank it all,” Taemin reminds him. “We can stop at a convenience store on the way home if you still feel like it~”

Jonghyun’s other hand comes up to cup Taemin’s cheek, turning him to face him and narrowing his eyes at Taemin. “Call me jagiya. Just once, and I’ll stop.”

Who said Taemin wanted him to? But Taemin can’t just tell him that, not where Minho can hear at least. Not unless Jonghyun makes his body talk later, gets it out of Taemin with his tongue and teeth, or something. But for now, “I said I didn’t hate it.”

“Just once and I won’t stop, then,” Jonghyun insists. “Just once and I’ll do whatever you want.” Maybe he reads it in Taemin’s face, because his eyes darken and his mouth curls and he clarifies, “Not here, later. When I come home.”

“Jagiya!” Minho half-shouts. “Jagiya. Now could you please, please, _please_ stop talking dirty to Taeminnie in front of me.”

“There’s nothing dirty about it, but fine,” Jonghyun says, then to Taemin, “I’ll kiss you wherever you want. Hmm? Taeminnie?” Jonghyun noses closer, lips brushing Taemin’s cheek. “Hmmm? Just once. Say it.”

“Jagiya,” Taemin rasps as deeply as he can, but instead of laughing Jonghyun bites his ear. Taemin’s whole body goes hot, all the air whooshing out of his body in something that might be a laugh. There’s no strength in his arms to fend Jonghyun off this time when he attacks Taemin, fingers dancing up his sides, getting another, “Jagiya,” out of him. “Now go back to your own seat. I have to think about this.”

“Think hard, Taemin-ah,” Minho says. “In between your toes? Under your arms? Somewhere unexpected.”

“Sounds good to me.” At Minho’s look Jonghyun says, “What? It’s all Taeminnie.”

The city flies by and Beyoncé comes on and the clock keeps ticking, and pretty soon Jonghyun might glance out the window, take his eyes off Taemin for a second. And even one second is too long.

All Taemin has to say is, “The mole on my nose,” and Jonghyun is leaning in to press his lips to Taemin’s skin, soft and warm. And when he lifts away he flashes Taemin yet another smile, even brighter and stupider than the last. It hits Taemin like sunlight.

“I’ll still do the other thing I promised, so you should do some more thinking.”

“As long as it’s not out loud,” Minho adds.

“Don’t worry,” Jonghyun tells him. “It takes a lot to get that kind of thing out of Taeminnie.”

“It barely takes anything to get stuff out of you. All I have to do is breathe on you.”

Not that Minho needed to know that. Yeah.

“Then I guess you should be grateful Minho is here. There’s a lot more I could say if he weren’t,” Jonghyun says, because somehow they’re still having this conversation. Somehow this is a conversation they get to have, in someplace other than their room in the dead of night, desperate to fuck or half-asleep.

But yeah. Minho. “I could leave you two on the side of the road, if you’d like.”

Like he didn’t anything Jonghyun goes on, “I’ll remember it for later, don’t worry. I won’t be able to forget, it’s going to be in my head the whole time. You are.” He pinches Taemin’s cheek and flops back in his seat, and Taemin wants to go back to the part where they’re touching so badly he can taste it. There’s nothing stopping him. “Tonight’s script is boring, too, we don’t have any guests. What if I run out of things to say?”

Minho clears his throat, glancing back at them. “Sounds like fun. Should we listen on the way back, Taemin-ah~?”

“Mm.” Taemin reaches up to comb Jonghyun’s bangs out of his face, and seeing his own hand, his heart pounds like crazy. But Jonghyun’s hair is so soft Taemin doesn’t mind waiting it out, until he can say normally, “Just don’t put me to sleep.”

Jonghyun leans into Taemin’s touch, catching Taemin’s eyes. Holding them. “I’ll talk about you, and you can think about the things I can’t say.”

“Hyung told me you were crazy, speaking of which,” Minho says out of nowhere.

“I said weird,” Jonghyun corrects him. “Don’t listen to Minho, Taeminnie, he just hears what he wants.”

“Uh huh. Like all those times you said Taeminnie had bad taste in men, I guess I was just hearing things?”

“That’s just what he told you,” Taemin says. “He told Jinki hyung no one was good enough for me~”

“Does that include him?” Minho says, the beginnings of a smile playing about his mouth.

“I don’t know, I’ll make up my mind later.”

Minho laughs out loud, not quite that high-pitched cackle of his, but not strained or fake or cold or anything like anything like that. Normal. Jonghyun shoots Taemin a secret look, all dark eyes and smirking mouth, and maybe Taemin returns it. And maybe his breath catches in his throat when Jonghyun slides his hand up Taemin’s thigh, big and sure, hot through his pants to his skin, but later. Later. Right now it’s enough for Taemin to trap it in both of his and pull it into his lap and hold onto him, and smile like crazy. Jonghyun smiles back.

 

Taemin kisses Jonghyun goodbye inside the car and lets his hand go at the doors into MBC, and Heeyeon is happy to see Minho and Taemin both. Five minutes chatting and smiling, one quick hug, Jonghyun’s voice low in his ear, “If you fall asleep on me I get to do whatever I want with you,” and that’s it. But the moon is just as bright as Taemin and Minho left it, and it’s still Minho’s birthday, and it’s still one of the best nights Taemin can remember. Minho says he was just kidding, he doesn’t want any more soju, and he doesn’t want to stop and buy Taemin some, either, so Taemin sits up front with him and flips channels. Finally Minho bats Taemin’s hand away from the controls, telling him, “I listen to it whenever I’m in the car,” and finds Blue Night in half a second.

Still just commercials. Jonghyun is probably still talking to Heeyeon. Maybe he’s put his earpiece in.

Taemin glances at Minho. Minho’s watching the road, slouched back in his seat with one hand on the steering wheel. If he looks half as tired as he feels he should’ve just asked Taemin to drive. It’s not like he’d wreck his car or something.

“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you right away, hyung. We were going to, it was just bad timing.”

Minho takes that in and says back, “At least I wasn’t the last to know. Kibummie might kill you. Or at least hyung.”

That’s probably supposed to be funny, Taemin is probably supposed to be laughing, but when he smiles his nerves wind tighter instead. “I don’t know, his big thing is respecting each others’ private lives. And the last time I talked to him about it he told me to go for it.”

“Yeah, and I’m guessing he didn’t know he was talking about Jonghyunnie hyung,” Minho points out.

Which, fair enough, except now Taemin is out of things to say that don’t mean _Kibum hyung has to understand_ or _What’s so good about Woohyun hyung, what does he have that Jonghyunnie hyung doesn’t?_ They coast to a stop at a red light and Minho reaches over to pinch Taemin’s cheek.

“So I guess you’re not forever solo anymore.”

“Guess not,” Taemin agrees. Then without his permission, “I know it’s weird, hyung,” comes rushing out of him.

“You’re the one who said it wasn’t, before.” Only thirty minutes back, when Taemin was drunk on Jonghyun’s smiles and could say everything inside him out loud. He’s still warm from them now. “Stop worrying so much about what other people think, Taeminnie.”

“You guys aren’t other people.” Taemin holds Minho’s eyes long enough to tell him that, but then the light turns green and it’s okay for him to say to his window instead, “How’s filming going?”

“Good. I got to do a crying scene last week. I’ve been working at it and asking sunbaenims for advice and stuff, and I think it turned out this time. PD-nim thought so, too. Hong Dahae-ssi—” Minho shuts up so fast Taemin’s head spins. Then, so carefully, “She wanted to re-shoot because she flubbed a line, but he kept it.”

“Jonghyunnie hyung would be good at those kinds of scenes, he can cry over anything,” is the first thing Taemin can think to say, but maybe it was also the worst, with the way it hangs in the air alongside Dahae’s name. Taemin leans against his door, window like ice against his cheek. “So far I haven’t made him.”

“That you know of.” That’s about the worst thing Minho could’ve said too, his words like a rock in Taemin’s stomach, but before Taemin can tell him that he explains gently, “It’s different when you’re dating, Taeminnie. He’d probably worry about how it looked now.”

“That makes no sense. I know how it looks, he’s been crying in front of me for ten years. Besides, he can’t hold it in, so he has no way to hide it.” Taemin’s getting too far ahead of himself, voice twisted up tighter and tighter. He reaches over and touches his fingers to Minho’s wrist and focuses on breathing. “He has nothing to hide from me anymore, hyung, it’s too late for that. I think that’s why he started liking me.”

For one long moment, Minho is silent.

“Then what about you?” Minho fixes Taemin with a look. “I didn’t say anything in front of hyung because I said I wouldn’t, but she told me she’d meet with you.”

Oh. Yeah. Hong Dahae. She lived in the back of his head all week and all afternoon, but somehow tonight Taemin forgot she was there.

“Did she give you a time and place?” he asks.

Instead of answering him, Minho says, “Does she know about you two, is that what this is about?”

And just like that, it’s too late. Taemin’s stuck talking about it. He never wants to again.

“Mm,” he gets out. “She saw us together after they were already broken up.”

“But you got together before?” Minho presses him.

_Don’t hate me, hyung. If you hate me for it I have to hate myself, and I want to be done with that._ Out of all that, the most he can say again is, “Mm,” but he keeps his head up. If he can’t talk to Minho about this, how is he supposed to talk to her?

That much is enough for Minho, though. He nods and moves on. “How did Jinki hyung find out, anyway?”

“I don’t know, he came down to get her off me. He must’ve seen us fighting out his window,” Taemin says. Minho stares. Stares and stares, eyes widening then narrowing, mouth thinning, until Taemin has to hit his arm before he sideswipes a car or gives Taemin a heart attack or something. “What?”

For one long minute, nothing. Minho flexes his fingers on the wheel and sucks on the inside of his cheek and rubs his hand through his hair. Then finally, “You were in a fight?” He shoots Taemin another look he can’t read. “Do you know how dumb I feel right now, not knowing about any of this?”

“We were going to tell you, hyung,” Taemin says again in a painful rush, “we decided before that happened. And it just happened.” He looks down and catches himself twisting his hands together, so he sits on them. Tells his feet, “If you wanna know about the rest of it, ask Jinki hyung, okay? I don’t want to talk about it.”

Minho reaches over and pets Taemin’s hair clumsily.

“But you’re still going to talk to her? Taemin-ah~. Come around set, then. That way if anything goes wrong, I’ll be there.”

Taemin makes himself look up again to meet Minho’s eyes and tell him, “This is something I have to do alone, hyung. I can do it.” Maybe Minho believes him, but the important thing is that Taemin believes himself. And anyway, “As long as it’s somewhere in public, it’s fine. Now that she already knows she won’t go crazy.”

It’s so much easier to hitch a smile onto his face than he thought it would be, and somewhere between Minho smiling back, the second commercial break ending and Jonghyun’s voice telling them, “This is Blue Night’s Jonghyun,” it starts to feel real. And the feeling from before starts coming back, too, a little at a time, no longer too bright to look at or too hot to touch. Just nice.

“That’s one thing,” Minho says, “but you really shouldn’t do this kind of stuff behind his back, either, Taemin-ah.”

“I’ll tell him after I’ve seen her. Otherwise he’ll try to protect me and go himself or something, you know him. The whole reason I’m doing it is to protect him for once.”

Minho shakes his head at him. “Why couldn’t you just wait for him to break up with her?”

“I don’t know.” Minho knows Taemin can’t talk about feelings, and now he’s supposed to explain them to him? He can try. “I wanted him too badly. And waiting was too scary. I said no to him the first time he confessed, I told him to forget me. If I’d waited any longer I think I would’ve gotten too scared he’d say no to me.”

“You probably would’ve had to wait forever for him to break up with her on his own, anyway.” Minho clears his throat. “To be honest, I was happy when he told me he was cheating on her. He never loved himself enough to leave her, but maybe if he loved someone else…I didn’t care if it was wrong. I still don’t.”

“I still hate her,” Taemin admits. “I won’t be able to forget about her until I stop.”

“Seeing her again won’t make you hate her less, Taemin-ah. Believe me, I’d know. I was stuck with her twenty-four seven before they broke up and I’ve been stuck with her twenty-four seven ever since, and I hate her the exact same, because I know how she treated him. And it’s not like everything she did to him just went away for him, either.” Minho pauses to catch Taemin’s eye, giving him a smile. “The best revenge is being happy together with Jonghyunnie hyung. And I can’t believe I just said that. You and Jonghyunnie hyung. It’s just so _weird.”_

“Get used to it. You didn’t crash or anything, so we get to kiss in front of you now,” Taemin says, watching for Minho’s mock disgusted face, his disbelieving laugh, his hand coming up to pinch his cheek, before he ducks out of reach and turns back to his window. His own smile takes forever to fade, and when he closes his eyes on the city outside, it’s like he’s alone with Jonghyun. He doesn’t even care what Jonghyun is saying or who he’s talking to. As long as he can hear his voice, that’s enough.

_I don’t want revenge, hyung. I want you to be happy. I want to shut up the part of me that’s scared I can’t give that to you._

_I just want you._

 

Taemin gives himself an extra half hour to find the address Dahae gave Minho and ends up spending all that time sitting in his car outside it. Coffee shop. Are they just going to sit across from each other and talk like in a drama? As long as she doesn’t slide an envelope stuffed with cash across the table and tell Taemin, _Go to America for a while._ As long as Taemin stops thinking these stupid things. It’s not funny, it’s real life. He’s really doing this.

He can do it.

His legs are like rubber when he gets out of the car and locks it behind him. No more going back. When he pushes the door open the bell tinkles, and Dahae looks up from across the room. The last time he saw her she was out of her mind, yelling and screaming, red-faced and wild-haired, but today she looks the way she always did before. Perfect.

“You came,” she says as he pulls his chair out and sits down across from her. If he can’t feel his face she doesn’t need to know, if his skin is buzzing, if his mouth tastes like cotton, if the strength’s gone out of his body and he might be having a heart attack. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

The waitress passes by their table and Dahae orders for both of them. Taemin won’t be able to taste anything anyway, so he just lets her to do it and concentrates on breathing. By the time Dahae’s eyes are on him again Taemin can meet them.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you it was me when you asked who it was. I wanted to say that.”

“You’re not sorry for anything else?”

“No.” Just one little word, and it takes so much out of him. “Are you?”

Almost before he can get it out, she’s saying over him, “I didn’t ask to see you for an apology. It wouldn’t mean anything to me, anyway.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, staring into his face. Taemin lets her look all she wants. He’s not sorry he didn’t ask Kibum what to wear. He’s not sorry he has no makeup on, that he’s wearing his glasses, that he picked his clothes in the dark, that he showed up as a human instead of an idol. This is exactly how he looked when Jonghyun stole ten goodbye kisses from him this morning. If it was good enough for him it’s good enough for her.

“You told me if I loved him I’d leave him alone,” Dahae says finally. “Then what about you?”

Taemin curls his hands into fists under the table, until his fingernails dig into his palms. “What about me?”

Her mouth curls. “Don’t play dumb, Taeminnie.”

“I’m not.”

“You know what happened to him when he got caught with Shin Sekyung-ssi better than I do. Do you know what would happen to him if he got caught with you?” she says. “When Hong Seokcheon came out, his career was finished. He lost all his connections. I heard he lost a lot of friends, too. It took him ten years to make it back on television, and he’s only a character actor, not an idol. If he had any fans, they didn’t think they were dating him.”

Does she think Taemin never thought of these things? He did. Every day he needed to work himself up to breaking Jonghyun’s heart, every day he spent breaking his own, he thought of nothing else. And even before that, from the moment Rain made his face grow hot and his stomach squirm, flashing his abs on TV. From the moment he lay in bed that night staring into nothing, heart pounding so loud he was scared his parents would hear it. When morning came he ate rice warmed up from yesterday, rode the same train to school, and sat at the same desk next to a girl who let him share her textbook since he forgot his, same as always. And then he danced in the same practice room from every day of the past year he’d spent training, and rode the same bus home with the same Jonghyun hyung who asked him years later, _Are you going to spend your whole life alone?_

“Hong Seokcheon-ssi owns restaurants in Itaewon, right?” Taemin says. “They’re too expensive for me and Jonghyunnie hyung, but maybe you’ve been.”

Her mouth twists. “Do you think Jonghyunnie wants to run a restaurant?”

“Did you ever think about what he wanted?” It’s out of Taemin’s mouth before he can stop himself, but why should he? It’s the truth. “Don’t pretend you’re thinking about him now. It’s too late for that.”

She opens her mouth to reply when the waitress comes back with their coffee. It’s harsh and bitter and burns Taemin’s tongue. If Dahae’s tastes the same her face doesn’t show it, smooth, impassive, dark eyes staring into Taemin. When she sets her mug down she flicks her hair back over her shoulder and crosses her legs and says, “Okay, let’s not pretend. I won’t pretend I was perfect, so you don’t pretend you’re not just as selfish as me. If you hold onto him you’re going to ruin his life.”

Taemin folds his hands around his mug to give them something to do. Jonghyun isn’t here to hold them. Right now he’s probably going through “Deja-Boo” for the hundredth time today. He might have started to hate it, or maybe he’s gone full circle and fallen in love with it again.

“His career, maybe,” Taemin says, “and maybe mine too. Shinee’s. But not his life.” His voice catches in his throat. He clears it and keeps going. “It’s funny. We only met because we had the same dream, and we only got this close because it came true for both of us. The one thing hyung loves more than me is music. It probably makes him happier than I could. But it can’t love him back. Not like I do.”

“What makes you think I’m interested in hearing your love story?” Dahae keeps her voice level, but just barely. “I’m interested in reality.”

“Reality doesn’t just mean the worst things that could happen. There’s a lot of good stuff, too,” Taemin tells her, even though he shouldn’t have to. “Hyung said your parents disowned you for going into acting, but you did what you wanted anyway.”

“Yes, Taeminnie. I also graduated from the number one school in the country,” she replies impatiently. “If I acting hadn’t worked out I had a million other options, if my degree didn’t get me in my name would.”

“There are a lot of things hyung could do, too.” Taemin tries smiling at her, but maybe he shouldn’t have. Now his face doesn’t feel like it’s his anymore. “It’s something we’d have to think about, anyway. Idols can’t get old.”

She takes another sip from her coffee, lip curling behind the rim. “What things can he do? He didn’t even graduate from high school.”

_Fuck you._ Those words die like ash on Taemin’s tongue. He didn’t come here to fight with her, take all the shit she said to him and all the shit she did to Jonghyun and throw it back in her face. He’d only hate himself for it, and until he’s done with that, he’s not stepping out that door and back into the light.

“You don’t need a degree to be a songwriter or a producer, and he’s already done both,” he says as normally as he can.

Her eyes flash. “No, you just need a reputation.”

“Then we can save what we’ve made at SM and figure something out.”

Jonghyun told him one time that he wanted to be a Korean language teacher. It’s too late for that now, but maybe Jonghyun could write a book, or sing and play bass in an underground band. And if he didn’t make any money, it’d be okay, because Taemin would. He’d work like crazy. That’s the one thing he knows he can do besides dancing. Work hard.

“If every single broadcasting station shut down tomorrow and the film industry collapsed, and there was nothing for me to do, my parents wouldn’t let their daughter starve. It’d be too embarrassing. Even now that things have worked out, they still send me money. All I’d have to do is stop sending it back.” Dahae’s face splits into this strange half smile, half grimace, and Taemin is left trying to figure out how she could ever look this ugly. “What does Jonghyunnie’s mother do for a living again?”

Taemin’s stomach clenches into a fist, so angry so suddenly he can’t see straight. “What does that have to do with anything?”

_Do you think you need to be rich to be happy? Do you think you need money to breathe or something? Maybe in your world. Not in ours._

“You’re right, maybe it doesn’t,” she says. “Even if she could support him, it’s possible she wouldn’t.”

Taemin’s hands are shaking. They can shake all they want, under the table, out of sight, wedged between his thigh and chair and going numb. “You don’t know her. You’ve never even met her.”

“I don’t need to, I know her generation,” Dahae replies dismissively. Another pause, another sip of her coffee, another deep breath that explodes in Taemin’s lungs. “I was angry so I used a lot of words I otherwise wouldn’t have, but I didn’t say anything wrong that day.”

Maybe she didn’t. That was the first time in Taemin’s life anyone’s called him any of those things, probably because she was the first person to find out about him who wanted to hurt him with it. And probably because he’s never told anyone who might hate him for it. The others knew about Kibum long before they knew about him, and Jongin always knew Taemin better than he knew himself, he probably figured Taemin out first. Jonghyun’s mom, though? His own parents?

All Taemin knows is that he doesn’t need to know what’ll happen—what they’ll say, if they’ll ever talk to him again, what Jonghyun might have to give up for him, any of that—just to know what to say to Dahae now. It’s none of her fucking business.

“Do you have anything else to say to me?” he says.

“What?”

“If you do, go ahead and say it now. Get it all out of your system. That’s why I came today.”

Her mouth twists and her eyes narrow into slits. “So that Jonghyunnie didn’t have to?”

“Why would he have to? He has nothing to do with this.” And Taemin didn’t have to, either. “The only person you have left to hurt is yourself.”

For one long moment, she has nothing to say to that. And then she smiles. Forces herself to.

“Time will tell who’s right, I guess. If he doesn’t get tired of you first, the way he got tired of me.”

“It’s not about right or wrong, Dahae-ssi.”

She laughs, this awful fake sound, broken on the inside.

“That’s ironic, coming from you.”

“You said I’m being selfish,” Taemin begins. “I know I am.” If he doesn’t say this now he might regret it later, and he’s so tired of that. And so for the longest time, he sits and waits for words to come. Better words. Smarter words. Drinks his coffee and waits. And then finally he just sticks with what he knows. “This business makes you choose all the time. Hyung broke up with his first girlfriend to focus on debuting, plus he quit school, like you said. I’ve given up a lot of stuff, too. I lost all my friends because all I did was practice. I liked so many guys before I liked hyung but I never confessed to any of them, because I was too scared to risk it. Even when our tour stopped somewhere cool, I never left the hotel, I just worked. That was my reality.” Taemin takes a deep breath and looks Dahae right in the eye. “This time I’m choosing myself. Whatever happens, I’m going to hold onto him and not let go. I love him.”

 

_Vrrrrt. Vrrrrt. Vrrrrt._

Shut up.

_Vrrrrt. Vrrrrt. Vrrrrt._

Please?

_Vrrrrt. Vrrrrt. Vrrrrt._

…God damn it. Taemin rolls over to face the wall, burying his face into his pillow and stretching his legs out until his toes push against something solid. The bedpost, not Jonghyun’s foot. Which means Jonghyun isn’t here, either he hasn’t come home yet or somehow Taemin missed him again.

_Vrrrrt. Vrrrrt. Vrrrrt._

Taemin opens his eyes to darkness and fumbles for his phone. Before he can find his voice, a woman tells him, “Hello, I’m calling from,” someplace Taemin forgets as soon as she says it, because the next thing is, “Your boyfriend is drunk. He’s with another woman, but he said to call you. Should I throw him out onto the street? Don’t come here to fight with her.”

“Huh?”

Silence. Then, “Did I press the wrong number?”

“Ahjumma?” Taemin guesses. From the food stand outside MBC. How it took him this long to recognize her voice, he doesn’t know. They used to talk every week, practically.

“You’re his dongsaeng,” she says. “The one who always comes. Tae…Taemin-ssi.”

“Yes.”

“Your hyung has a weird sense of humor. Tell him to use people’s names unless he wants to start making his own calls. ‘Boo?’ Aigoo, aigoo, aigoo.”

Taemin doesn’t need to hide his smile. It’s dark and he’s alone, and she won’t hear it in his voice. She doesn’t know what it sounds like. “How many bottles?”

“Enough that I had to take his phone.” She sighs. “Should I call a taxi instead?”

“I’m coming.”

 

Taemin could make this drive in his sleep, but he’s wide awake by the time he finds a place to park and steps under the yellow umbrella to find Jonghyun with his head in his hands and Heeyeon slouching across the table from him, two bottles of soju between them. Only one is empty.

“Taemin-ah,” Jonghyun says to the table.

“Aigoo, aigoo, aigoo.” Ahjumma clicks her tongue at Jonghyun from behind the counter, look on her face like she’s sick to death of him. Then to Taemin, “I woke you up, right?”

“It’s okay.”

“Want Taeminnie,” Jonghyun says loudly. He doesn’t even look up when Taemin drops drags up a chair from the next table over and drops into it.

“I’m here, hyung.”

“You should be grateful he takes care of you. You should be taking care of him,” Ahjumma says, before the drunk sitting at the counter shouts for more soju and gives her someone else to shake her head at.

“Jinki hyung said I should let him,” Jonghyun tells her back. When Taemin lays his hand on Jonghyun’s shoulder Jonghyun turns to face him. Taemin can see it in his face the moment he realizes who he’s looking at, corners of his mouth crooking, eyes crinkling up. “I didn’t mean to drink, Taemin-ah. I just got drunk.”

“He’s lying, Taemin-ah,” Heeyeon slurs, before she tries lying herself. “He had all of it.”

“Have you eaten anything?”

Heeyeon shakes her head blearily, but Jonghyun needs a minute to think about it. “Sandwich. Before Blue Night.”

“Ahjumma,” Taemin calls. “Could we get some tteokbokki, please?”

“Hyung will pay,” Jonghyun tells him immediately, swaying into Taemin’s side. Leaning against him. His hand finds Taemin’s thigh under the table, big and warm. “Hyung owes you, remember?” Jonghyun narrows his eyes at Taemin. “But if I pay it’s a date. That’s how we’ll remember tonight.”

“Then what am I?” Heeyeon cuts in, making a face at Jonghyun. “We should go anyway. It’s late. Early. Whatever.”

What she is is way drunker than Jonghyun, even. It’s okay if Taemin ignores her just this once and says, “Should I get fish cakes, too~?”

“Did you forget what today is?” Jonghyun asks him.

How could Taemin? When he woke up this morning Jonghyun was gone, but he didn’t need Jinki to tell him, Remember, our Jonghyunnie’s song is coming out today~. Jinki didn’t need Taemin to tell him that Jonghyun was his boyfriend and there’s no way he’d forget, either, so Taemin didn’t. Just spent the next hour and a half searching for his phone and the rest of the day hanging onto it, so he could download “Deja-Boo” the minute it dropped and tell Jonghyun, _u said u showed me the master before. why does this one sound better?_ And then he remembered Blue Night, and heard “Deja-Boo” for the first time all over again. Told Jonghyun, _u shouldve done it live hyung. i stayed up for this._

“I listened,” Taemin says.

“You fell asleep,” Jonghyun accuses him. Only after. It’s not Taemin’s fault Blue Night is two hours and “Deja-Boo” is only four minutes. And then Jonghyun takes the words right of Taemin’s mouth. “Texted you so many times.”

He did?

“It’s my fault, Taemin-ah,” Heeyeon says. “I should’ve told him to go home and wake you up. We were just gonna have one drink to celebrate.” She tries holding up one finger, before she gives up and lays her head back down, words smushed along with her cheek. “Justonedrink.”

Should Taemin have one too? Just one. He hooks his finger in Jonghyun’s glass and reaches for the bottle. Jonghyun’s eyes follow his every move. “I wrote in to Blue Night, didn’t you see?”

“’It’s Taeminnie~,’” Jonghyun recites faithfully, before he makes a face at Taemin. “Was that all you could think to say?”

Whatever. “You know the rest of it.”

Jonghyun smiles, slow and dirty sweet, the one that tightens Taemin’s stomach and sends his ears hot. It’s definitely past two a.m. and he rolled out of bed to come here, and it still does. He’s in yesterday’s clothes and he didn’t even look in the mirror on his way out, but maybe Jonghyun is too drunk to see straight, anyway. Or maybe he’s just blind.

“You love me,” Jonghyun says.

“Mm.”

“How much?” Jonghyun says. “How much do you love me?” He holds his hand up, thumb and index finger inches apart. “This much?”

He’s so embarrassing. Heeyeon’s too busy talking to the table to care, though, so Taemin doesn’t either. His face can burn all it wants, but that’s not going to stop him from saying, “More.”

Jonghyun almost falls out of his chair spreading his arms wide, asking, “Thiiis much?”

Taemin steadies him with a hand on his back, twisting his fingers into Jonghyun’s shirt. “More.”

For one long moment Jonghyun just looks at Taemin. Taemin looks back. Looks and looks. He has all the time in the world to push his chair further away or push Jonghyun away when he reaches for him clumsily, but he sits there and lets Jonghyun take his face in his hands instead, palms warm and rough against his skin, fingers splayed over Taemin’s ears weirdly and thumbs pressing into the corners of his eyes. Over Jonghyun’s shoulder the world keeps turning. Cars glide by and snow turns to slush, the moon hangs big and white over Seoul and yellow street light dances on the sidewalk, and another drunk wants another bottle of soju. It’s probably three, three thirty. Jonghyun probably has to get up at five or six.

Taemin closes his eyes. Tilts his head. Waits.

“This much?” Jonghyun asks, and leans in and kisses Taemin on the mouth.

There’s a splatter and a curse. Taemin opens his eyes to find his tteokbokki on the ground and Ahjumma standing over it, eyes wide. For one second they meet Taemin’s, and then she’s looking anywhere but him, scrubbing her hand through her hair, wiping her palms on her apron. Taemin’s heart pounds and his chest burns and his mouth goes dry and his muscles turn to jelly. Should he get up and help clean up? What would be normal, what would he be doing right now if the last few seconds of his life never happened? Besides regretting it.

As he plants his hands on the table and fights to stand, Ahjumma tells him quickly, “Leave it. I’ll get you some more,” and shuffles away.

“Taeminnie?”

Taemin sinks back down and turns to find Jonghyun staring at him still.

“More than that, hyung,” Taemin says. “Way more.”

Jonghyun smiles again. This one fills Taemin’s heart to bursting, so full it hurts.

“You can show me when we get home,” Jonghyun suggests, laying his hand over Taemin’s on the table. “In the car, maybe? Hmmm?”

Heeyeon makes yet another face, decreeing, “I need him to drive me home and then you can have him.”

“Tomorrow morning maybe, if you’re not puking your guts out,” Taemin says to Jonghyun.

“I’m not that drunk,” Jonghyun retorts. Then he starts up again, “I’m not that drunk, I know I shouldn’t have kissed you,” in a voice that steals the air from Taemin’s lungs. “How drunk would I have to get to forget that, do you think?”

“Don’t say you’re sorry.” Taemin pushes Jonghyun’s hair back from his face. Even if his heart weren’t pounding like crazy from nerves it’d be pounding like crazy from how beautiful Jonghyun looks right now. “I’m not.”

All he has to do is smile, and Jonghyun smiles back.

“Then I’m not either,” Jonghyun says, leaning into Taemin’s touch. “I love you too.”

Ahjumma returns with more tteokbokki before Taemin can reply. He’s still working up the courage to raise his eyes to her face when she slides a plate of soondae onto the table as well.

“Get some food in him before you take him home,” she says. “Meat is better.”

Taemin fumbles for his wallet, because there’s no way he forgot it, right…right? But she’s shaking her head at him. The breath hits Taemin’s body again so suddenly he’s almost dizzy with it, but now his throat is closing up on him, of all things. When he looks up at her, now that the surprise has faded from it, she’s wearing the exact same face she’s worn every night he’s come here. He takes his hand out of his pocket and pulls both plates towards him, picking up his chopsticks.

“Thank you,” he gets out. “We’ll eat well.”

She just shakes her head again, half-smiling. “Aigoo, don’t mention it. You know how much money I’ve made off these two?”

She leaves them to it. Heeyeon doesn’t even remember what food is, probably, and Jonghyun won’t eat unless Taemin feeds him. He was right, too. The tteokbokki here is good. It only took Taemin a year to try it.

“I cried earlier so I’m not gonna cry on you,” Jonghyun says.

“What did you cry for? Today was a good day, hyung.”

Jonghyun has to think about that one. Taemin lets him take his time, lets him chew and chew it over, thumbing sauce off Jonghyun’s lips. If Taemin hogs the soondae it’s not like Jonghyun will mind. Ahjumma likes Taemin better than him, anyway. She gave it to him.

Finally Jonghyun says, “Relief. Happiness. I don’t know. That’s why I didn’t call you, just texted. Crying too hard to talk.”

“Has anyone else played it yet?” Heeyeon says suddenly. “That was my first time dropping a song like that. No one ever listens to ours. Or plays them.”

“I don’t know,” Taemin replies. When Jonghyun leans forward Taemin goes back for more tteokbokki on automatic, cupping his hand under his chopsticks until Jonghyun’s lips close around them. “We can listen to the radio on the way back and see.” Taemin hesitates, but what for. “The long way, if you want.”

Heeyeon watches Jonghyun eat jealously, head propped up on her fist. “Yah, don’t hog it. Let me have some.”

Before Taemin can say anything, Jonghyun shoves the plate across the table towards her and leaves her to figure out how chopsticks work, eyes still on Taemin’s face, lips sticky and red, just asking to be kissed. Jonghyun did it five minutes ago and got away with it, and dawn is hours and hours away. Plus the only people left who’d care are too drunk to.

“No take backs, you’re stuck with me,” Jonghyun says. “The long way.”

The long way.

Taemin closes his eyes and leans in and kisses Jonghyun again.


End file.
